Babylon 5: The Coming of Shadows
by Grand Admiral Harmon
Summary: Part 3 of the Babylon 5 AU. As the death of the Emperor creates a power vacuum back on Centauri Prime, the Narns continue their advance. Meanwhile, as Humanity strengthens their alliance with the Shadows, the Minbari prepare to strike and finish their war against humanity.
1. The Return of the Agamemnon

**Chapter 1: The Return of the Agamemnon**

Captain John J. Sheridan, hero of the Earth-Minbari War, sole war-hero of the Human Remnant, leader of the Human Heavy Destroyer _Agamemnon_, was feeling very tired. Slowly his eyelids began to close, the warm blanket of sleep and rest wrapping their arms around him. How he wanted to sleep.

"Captain Sheridan!" a voice snapped and the machine in front of him shut off, the sounds of humming from the machine dying away. "Captain Sheridan!" His head bobbed up as he tried weakly to rouse himself but he was unsuccessful. Stars exploded in his eyes and pain shot through his face as he snapped awake.

And there, standing before him was Doctor Lillian Hobbs, acting Chief Medical Officer of the _Agamemnon_. She was a short woman from the Indian Consortium, from the Earth before the War. The Earth that had been a thriving planet, full of life and potential still. The Earth before it had been blasted back to the primordial soup.

"What do you think you are doing Captain?" she demanded.

"Huh?" he asked, still slowly rousing himself.

"You should have told me if something was changing," she growled, "You can't be on here too long or it will kill you. This alien healing device is not to be used lightly. Doctor Franklin would skin me alive if you died to save him!"

"And how is the Doctor?" he asked, looking at the dark skinned man who was a friend.

"Not better," she sighed, covering her mouth with her hand, the frustration clear in her demeanor, "He's stable, but I think we might have to get a convicted criminal to help. Only a complete transfer I think will work."

Sheridan stood up and felt a rush of dizziness hit him and he leaned back onto the chair. Yeah...he had been on that machine too long. The transferring of energy was too draining, and they had been doing it for the past couple days in shifts as they headed back to Epsilon 3.

"I'm going to walk to my quarters and take a nap," he said, trying his luck again and walking to the door that led to main corridor, his feet like lead.

"A nap is not good right now," she replied, "Better be active for a while. Let your body re-stabilize from your session."

Sheridan nodded and headed out of the door and into the hall.

* * *

Delenn, Satai of the Grey Council, one of the ruling order of the Minbari Federation, laid on the hard floor. A guard would come into the cell in about ten human minutes and proceed to beat her again. But, she would not let this continue. She had to get out.

* * *

"Captain Sheridan," a voice called through his comlink as he disobeyed orders and proceeded to his quarters, "Captain."

"Yes, Mr. Zento," he sighed, bringing up his link and touching the button to activate his comlink, "What is it?"

"The Minbari has escaped," came the reply, "The guard's been knocked out."

It couldn't be Mr. Lennier. Lennier had only as of last night gave him a pledge of loyalty. He knew that he'd not desert him. It was his gut feeling. He knew deep inside he could trust the strange man.

"Which one?" he demanded, "We've got three onboard this tub."

"Satai Delenn."

* * *

Delenn staggered around the ship. She had been on a captured human cruiser before, back during the Holy War. They had captured the ship and summarily executed all but three of the crew, taking those to a place to be reborn as Minbari. She had disapproved of the transformation of those humans to Minbari, but she had been overruled by the rest of the Council. The Workers had laughed at the simplicity of the ships they were fighting with, the Religious had felt a sense of insanity as they walked through the halls, and the Warriors scoffed at a race that was fighting in a ship a thousand years behind their own technology.

But one of the Council, Morann, warrior caste, stood for a minute when they reached the command bridge. At that moment, all his desire for the war was purged away and he asked the question, "How valorous are such a race that despite being outgunned and outmatched would still climb into ships so antique to fight against a superior foe?"

The designs of that ship and this were almost identical and she proceeded to the hangerbay. She'd steal a fighter and escape. She'd learn how to pilot it. She could not be taken to Epsilon 3. They'd kill her.

She made to move around a corner but heard some humans walking. She stopped and backed up and pressed herself against the wall. Her head bone pressed against the cool metal and she waited for them to pass. When the two walked by, bent over a report and talking to each other, she scooted across the wall and turned around the corner. The humans continued without noticing her and she breathed a sigh of relief and turned.

"There's no way off here Satai," a human, tall, with brown short cut hair, said. Three human security guards stood behind him, their pistol pulled and trained on her.

"I can't go to your government," she said, terror filling her, "No, I will not go."

"There's only one way off this ship and that's past me," he said, holding up his hands and slowly moving towards her, "You will be shot dead. Do you want that?"

"I want to not be stripped of all dignity by your torturers," she snarled, "I only want to serve."

"And will you be serving if you die?" he asked, now just a mere feet from her, "I promise you that we are not the barbarians you portray us to be. I assure you we will have more mercy on you then your people had on our homeworld. Now please, don't make this difficult."

Delenn's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed. A combination of fear, pain, and sleepless agony had finally taken its toll.

* * *

Sheridan looked down at her and for some reason she looked strangely familiar. He could not place his finger on it, but where did he know her from? She didn't look like a monster, but then again, didn't evil sometimes wear a pleasant face?

"Be gentle with her," he told Mr. Zento who shrugged and kneeling down slid his arms under her small body and lifted her off the ground and carried her down the corridor.

As he watched them go, Sheridan tried to shrug off the feeling of familiarity. It would take them roughly a day to get back to Epsilon 3. He'd drop her off then and be done with it.


	2. The Losses of Yesteryear

**Chapter 2: The Losses of Yesteryear**

Michael Garibaldi awoke in the cell, feeling...strangely refreshed. He almost always felt tired, but not now. He sat up in the bed and looked around the cell walls, and not finding a clock saw small slits of light filtering in from opening cut near the ceiling of the cell which faced...somewhere.

A door opened and light from the outside corridor flooded the room. He blinked as in stepped a person and he stood within the doorway, light spilling from either side.

"Mr. Garibaldi," a man's voice said, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Refreshed," he admitted, "And...a little confused. What happened the other night?"

A silence.

"You remember nothing?"

_Faces in a room. Orange-yellow blasts from a PPG. The Mutai-Do. Body hitting the ground. Black night. Screams. Man hanging from a light. Minbari head rolling through the street, bone torn off._

"I don't know," he finally said, "It's all a jumble. I think I killed some people. I don't know."

"There were a lot of deaths Christmas," the man said, his voice bored, "It seems the whole of Epsilon 3 went insane. We're just lucky there were a few that kept cool heads."

What had happened the other night? Nothing made any sense. Garibaldi's head hurt even thinking about thinking about it.

"You are free to go," the man said, turning his back on Garibaldi and leaving him alone in the room.

* * *

The announcement of the Emperor's death had come like a thunderbolt on the Centauri people. There had been much weeping and wailing on Centauri Prime by the main populace. Turhan had been loved. Sure, he was not known for his wars or grand projects. But, he had been able to communicate to the masses on the most basic level and made them feel they were not overlooked. Poets who had not written poems in years spent time to write layes in his honor.

But on the other hand, many took it as a signal to launch their maneuvers to take the throne. Few wanted Prince Cartagia on the throne, despite his rightful claim. So, Houses sent their troops against one another. The plains surrounding the Capitol City were awash in blood and flames. The grand mansions of the nobility were ransacked by rivals and those lords not killed but did not triumph fled into hiding to await the outcome.

Lord Reefa had been awaiting this chance. The chance to take the throne. Despite his banishment to the Human protectorate colonies, he was prepared. And had taken the chance. Two medium sized Vorchan-Class cruisers and twenty thousand soldiers. He hadn't gone for the rivaling Houses. No, he had plunged straight for the Royal Court.

As the Palace Guards fought to keep back the assault forces that assailed them, Reefa stood at the base of the stairs that led to the doors of the Palace and breathed in deeply. The smell of fire from Tromo pistols and rifles was sweet to him. He closed his eyes and allowed the sounds of war and change envelope him in its arms.

* * *

Malachi looked out at the troops rushing the Palace and saw Reefa basking in the glory of his pride and conquest. No, he could not kill Cartagia. Cartagia might not be king's material. But, he was the rightful heir to the throne.

"Time to go Your Majesty," he said, turning to the young man.

Cartagia looked disinterested as the sounds of his death came closer and closer. He had a look of complete detachment to all the doings and saying of this mortal life. As if he was willing to die. Four assassins had already tried their luck against the young prince but had all found him a worthier opponent than they had ever suspected.

"There is no need to fear Malachi," he said slowly, turning away from the painting on the wall, "You are no longer a member of this court. You haven't been for years since you went into retirement."

"Your Majesty-"

"You must not worry about me," Cartagia said with a shrug, sitting on the chair, "I am a living God after all. But go Malachi. There is no reason for you to stay here."

Malachi looked with befuddlement at the Prince, but did not wait. Whatever insanity that affected the Prince had not contaminated his own sensibilities. He turned and fled from the room, barely dodging a random stray blast of plasma that flew through the air.

* * *

Garibaldi rode on the hover taxi down the streets of New Geneva. Signs of the terrors of that night nearly a week before still showed, despite the efforts to cleanup. Religious buildings that had been burned down by their pastors stood next to stores with broken windows. Nothing had been stolen from them, but the sake of breaking windows. Trees that had lined the streets laid flat on the ground, cut down in panic by the terrorized people.

The Markab taxi driver shook him when they pulled up to Garibaldi's house. Garibaldi looked up, and saw the windows shattered and the door broken open. Fear gripped his heart and without waiting to pay the driver pushed the door open and ran up the stairs.

"Lisa!" he shouted, dashing from room to room, "Lisa! Kassie! Baby, answer me!"

He rushed up the stairs, the railing broken. He rushed into his bedroom, and found his wife there, her skull cracked open against the bedpost, her skin cold and waxy. He stopped there, looking down at his dead wife and nearly collapsed. Kassie...

He ran into her bedroom and throwing open the closet door couldn't find her. He turned and dashed into the bathroom, and there she was. Her head was thrust into the filled up bathtub, where she had drowned. It was then he collapsed on the ground and sobbed fiercely. He hadn't noticed the Markab driver who had not to be deterred by his patrons breaking for it but had followed him. But, as he watched Garibaldi bend over and sob into the sleeves of his shirt, he quietly backed away and left the home of sorrow, no longer concerned about being paid.


	3. Between the Candle and the Light

**Chapter 3: Between the Candle and the Star**

Twelve years. Twelve years since her father had died during the Minbari assault on Earth. Twelve years since her brother had died fighting to save Earth. Twelve years since the world she knew ended.

Susan Ivanova, Military Governor of Vega Seven stood over the small white candle, fat and round in a clear glass cup. A small lighter was held in her hand and she lit the wick, and gently pushed the candle back to be next to the second candle. As part of the Russian Orthodox Jew religion she was raised in, it was customary to lit these Yahrtzeit candle at the anniversary of the death of the loved ones of the bereaved. She was the only Jew in the entire colony, but that did not stop her from lighting the candles and fasting the day.

"Papa," she said out loud, hoping by some small chance the flames would carry her prayer unto heaven, "I am so sorry we never were close in this life. I am sorry you and Ganya died. I hope that you will forgive me my sins."

* * *

"What are you doing little brother?" the voice asked, trying to penetrate the fog in Marcus' mind. He stared at the glass in front of him and barely took note of his brother as he stood behind him.

"How many does this make?" William Cole asked.

"I lost count after five," Marcus said, the alcohol dancing in his vision, "Or was it nine? Well...not that it really...you know...matters."

"I only see people get this drunk," his brother commented, pulling the chair beside Marcus out and sliding into the seat, "When they either want to kiss a girl, or kill someone."

Marcus kept his face turned to his glass, and what thoughts he had turned to his drink. They were of a better sort then that of what his brother could tell him.

"She's so..." he fought for the right word in his inebriated, "special. I want to..."

"To what?"

Marcus shook his head, "I can't even think straight. I am not sure what I want."

"You know what your problem is?"

"I'm sure you'll tell me," Marcus grumped, picking up his cup and taking another long sip of it.

William waved his hand and said, "You have never made the courage to pursue what you want. You hide behind mining tools and cheap Drazi liquor. WHat you need is a purpose in life. If it's chasing women, do that. If it's digging, do that. Anything that will give you purpose in life. You have no purpose in life."

Marcus snorted, "What are you? A mixture of Shakespeare and Aristophanes?"

"Drowning your sorrows is not the way to live your life," William argued, ignoring the comment.

"And who cares how I live my life?" he snapped, throwing the glass across the room and against a wall. A Brakiri sitting below the area cursed as he was forced to cover his head from the falling glass and liquid.

"You aren't living it," his brother retorted, "You have no ambitions."

"And what does it matter?" he whirled on his brother and held up a finger to him, "You've got your wife and she is pregnant. You've got a family. And what have I got? Huh? What do I got to look forward to!"

William stepped up to him and stared him in the eye. "Nothing as long as you stay here."

* * *

Susan walked through the night-time streets, the people hustling to make curfew. Lord Reefa's recent rise to power had instituted a number of changes. One of them was a curfew of 9 PM local time everywhere in the Human colonies of the Republic.

A few of the security in the area saluted to her as she passed, but she took little note of them. Her office was still some distance away and she had considerable amount of work to do. To H-l with the curfew. She was the military governor here, and she'd do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

* * *

It looked first like a star twinkling in the night. The star grew bigger and bigger, and a screeching sound in the night shattered the relative peace. The closer it got, the closer they could tell what it was. A Minbari transport flier, fire bellowing from its engines. The ship's nose tipped up as the pilot tried to stabilize their descent, but pieces of the hull stripped away as the heat of the friction burned the ship to a white hot.

And then, with a rupture of dirt and grass, the ship crashed into the farmers field. A few seconds passed before the top of the ship shot away and out crawled the Minbari Anla'Shok. And in his mind the scream came, and he looked back up to the stars. And blotting out the stars was a growing shape so black the eye slid off of it. Standing up he ran for the town roughly a mile ahead, and barely missed the flash of purple laser that sliced into his ship and the farmhouse nearby.

* * *

William carried his brother over his shoulder. Marcus had collapsed from the drinks he had been drinking, and he needed to take him home to his small apartment. He heard the scream in his mind and barely could react before the building by his exploded.

* * *

The entire colony was in flames. They didn't know who was attacking them or why, they only knew the exploding of buildings, and the deaths of everyone. One by one. Marcus awoke as a distant explosion woke him, and he blinked at the dirt in front of his eyes. He looked up and over at his brother. And his mouth dropped at the beam sticking from his brother's temple.

"William," he said, his hand trembling as he placed his fingertips to his pulse. But no life beat from his brother.

A scream tore in his mind and he shrank, not daring to look up. Then came the shots from the colonies ground defenses and one thought came to his mind. A word that slipped from his lips.

"Susan."

* * *

"Here it comes again!"

The ship swept close to the ground, the force of its jet stream shattering the top of buildings in a tornado of flying debris. Everywhere Susan looked, everyone was dying. The defenses had been neutralized almost immediately upon reacting to the attack, and anyone caught in the open was atomized by the attacker.

"Susan!" a voice shouted, and she turned to see Marcus running towards her.

Well, running might not have been the right word. He was staggering back and forth towards her. Probably extremely drunk. Odd...she had never taken him for a drunk. She then spotted the Minbari running into the settlement, turning and spotting her.

"No!" she screamed, "What are you doing here? Get out of here-"

The house by her shattered and with an explosion of stars she lost all consciousness.

* * *

"Susan!" Marcus shouted, continuing his way towards her, "No! Susan!"

"Human!" a voice shouted and he turned his head towards a Minbari. Probably another alcoholic delusion as everything else was, "Human, we must get off this planet! Where are you going? We need to get to your landing field and grab a shuttle."

"I'm not leaving without her," he replied, nearly being knocked down as a body went flying from a nearby hit. He was now by her and he knelt down, and looked at the support beam that was thrown across her back.

"We can't take her," the Minbari argued, grabbing Marcus' arm.

"No!" Marcus turned around and pushed him back, "I will not leave her. Then we can all die here."

The Minbari stared at him, disbelief in his eyes. But Marcus didn't care. He wouldn't leave her. He wouldn't, and they could all burn for all he cared.

"Fine," the Minbari sighed, stepping over to the board and bending down, "But we must be careful. She might have back damage and it would not do to not be careful."

"Alright then," Marcus muttered, "Then we'll go find that blasted ship."

* * *

The pillars of light were the only source of illumination in the entire room. Nine were the lights of the circle. And One was in the center. Kalain stood there, watching the Council that surrounded him with a great amount of condensation. Here they stood on the bridge of the Valen'Tha, travelling between the worlds of the Minbari Federation. Detached from the problems of their people. And they thought to led this war against the humans. He doubted it.

"We must not be hasty," Coplann, head of the Council said, "They captured Delenn, and according to your report the Starkiller escaped. He's a more cunning enemy then we thought. And the humans do have ten heavy destroyers."

"But they are involved in a war already," Ratheen of the Religious Caste pointed out, "They will not be able to fend both of us off."

"Ratheen speaks the truth," Jenimer, another Religious Caste member inputted, "If we strike now, we will not be forced to face their full weight. We must strike now."

A silence fell on the group as they awaited Coplann's decision. He closed his eyes and Kalain wished he could bash his head in, if it would do any good. Coplann was Warrior Caste, but he did not understand that the humans had to be destroyed. For some reason, he was hesitant of doing what needed to be done.

What was it that made them hesitate? Why would they not finish the job the first time? Did they know something no one else did? Kalain understood the true purpose of war. And if he could lead the war it would be conducted as it was meant to be led. And not following the rules they set up here in this relic of a ship.

"We set forth by the end of the day," he finally said, "And may Valen forgive us for bowing to the wishes of our people for more death and destruction."


	4. By War's Early Light

**Chapter 4: By War's Early Light**

From fourteen planets in the Minbari Federation, engines roared to life. They had waited so long for this chance to strike at Humanity and clear it from the face of the Galaxy. And now was the time. The time to purge their filth from the true and faithful had arrived.

* * *

"Are you alright, love?" Talia asked as she entered the hospital room, "I hope I am not disturbing you."

There were few things that Alfred Bester cared for. The Corps which he had kept alive despite all the trials and troubles of the past decade. Interestingly, Michael Garibaldi he'd like to consider a friend and everything he did was to free him from the need to be bound to the mundane existence that he tried to maintain. And her, the love of his life.

"Is this genuine concern I detect from my dear wife?" he asked, his jaw sore as he moved it, the bones barely starting to heal, "Or is this nothing more than her attempt to determine just how much of a threat I still pose?"

Talia chuckled as she stepped up to the bed and sitting on the chair beside him slid a hand over his bandaged appendage.

"Such a romantic," she smiled.

"Romanticism will not get me out of here," Bester muttered, "He'll be coming after us soon."

Talia was silent for a second before she whispered, "Are you sure?"

"President Clark is a paranoid fanatic and he sees me as a potential threat," he replied, "Sooner or later, we will have to leave this place."

* * *

The rotating section of the _Agamemnon_ slowly turned as the ship held stationary orbit above Epsilon 3. It would take two weeks to repair much of the damage and wear of the ship, but it was enough time in which to visit the planet. Sheridan had much down there he needed to attend to.

"I will also be going down with you," Morden said from his guest quarters as Sheridan walked past to the bridge, "I am being assigned to an ambassadorial position in New Geneva."

"I am sure you're help there will be much appreciated," Sheridan smiled, "And who knows, maybe you'll get along with Mr. Wells, head of the Department of Alien Relations."

Morden smiled his toothy grin at him and said, "Maybe."

Sheridan nodded to him and continued on his way to the bridge. Mr. Morden had been a big help. But unfortunately, his healing device he had brought hadn't healed Doctor Franklin. The stress his body had been under would not allow for no easy recovery. Maybe they could snag someone on death row to volunteer to save his life.

The door to the bridge slid by to let him on, and he spotted Commander Corwin standing next to the engineering console. Corwin glanced back to Sheridan and nodded.

"Captain," he said, "Are you disembarking?"

Sheridan nodded. "Yes," he replied, "I got some stuff that needs to be done in person. I'll be delivering the Satai Delenn and her companion Zacllen. I also need to drop off Mr. Morden."

Corwin's expression darkened. Sheridan frowned.

"Is there a problem Commander?" he asked.

Corwin gulped and said, "Something we need to talk about in private."

Sheridan nodded and turning to a Lieutenant gave him command as Corwin stepped out into the hallway with him. The door slid shut behind them and Corwin looked uncomfortable with whatever was on his mind. Sheridan studied his posture, his demeanor, his visible distaste. Same as with Zarkis.

"Permission to speak frankly?" Corwin finally asked.

Sheridan chuckled. "You never needed it before," he smiled, "Don't disappoint me now."

"Alright then," Corwin turned to him and looking him straight in the eyes said, "Captain, what the h-l are we doing?"

Sheridan stared a little nonplussed at him.

"What are you talking about David?"

"I don't like this Mr. Morden or his associates," Corwin explained, "Something about them is not right."

"They are perfectly fine," Sheridan shrugged, "Sure, they are powerful. So what?"

"They are dangerous," Corwin pressed, "You said so yourself they killed those two Minbari without any remorse."

Sheridan frowned, "I never said that."

"You did in your sleep," Corwin corrected him, "For heaven sakes Captain! They gave us a machine that can kill someone to heal another!"

"What does that matter? They are helping keep a member of my crew alive."

"My gut tells me not to trust them. Especially not that Morden character. Everything tells me he's not a good guy to be around."

Sheridan chewed on the inside of his lip and glared at Corwin. So what if he made an alliance with a dangerous race? David was simply over-reacting.

"Let me take care of the details of our alliance with Mr. Morden," Sheridan said, thrusting a finger in David's chest, "You take care of your own business."

"My business is to let my superior know he is make a terrible mistake," Corwin shot back but Sheridan turned on his heel and stormed away, leaving the Commander by himself.

* * *

The shuttle landed and Sheridan felt a rush of energy drain. He hated going to New Geneva. He tried avoiding it as much as possible. The politicians, the internal squabbling, the petty lack of discipline. It was nothing like his ship, where he had absolute control over what happened when it happened.

Not even his family made the trip any better in his mind. But, the shuttle dropped, and he tried to take on an air of professional detachment as he unbuckled his straps and along with Mr. Morden and the escort of GROPO guards walked off the shuttle and onto the landing platform. Behind them came Satai Delenn and her aide Zacllen. They had been bound with ripcords behind their back tightly enough that any struggling would result in cutting into the flesh. Delenn kept her eyes low, avoiding Mr. Morden. Her reaction when she had been put on the shuttle when she had seen him had been quiet violent.

Standing there was Major Ryan, second-in-command of General Hague. Sheridan stepped up to him and saluted. He spotted to the side the slick coolness of a man that had to be Mr. Wells. An efficient man as reputation would have it.

"Sir," Sheridan said, "May I present these prisoners to you."

Ryan looked approvingly at the prisoners and returned the salute. "I had no doubts you would get the job done," he replied, his round face showing nothing but genuine pleasure, "But, what is _that _and why isn't it in chains?"

Lennier, almost entirely forgotten, stood beside and behind Sheridan and he held his place. He realized that the next few seconds could determine his fate.

"He helped me escape and has sworn his life to our cause," Sheridan replied firmly, "I trust him implicitly."

Ryan scowled darkly at Lennier. Ryan was many things. A good soldier, a loyal human and a good man. But he was an open book and seemed to wear his expressions like a badge of honor on his sleeve.

"We shall see," he finally muttered, "And this man to my side is-"

"Gideon Welles," the man interrupted, stepping forward, "And I assume you are the ambassador to our allies? What is their name might I ask?"

"I am Mr. Morden," the man smiled, "And the name of my associates is over ten thousand letters long. No man would be able to learn it. They do have a name though most races know them by-"

"Shadows," Delenn spoke softly. She had spoken so quietly that Sheridan and Ryan passed a glance between each other, trying to figure out if the other had heard. "They are the Shadows," she repeated more firmly and loud, "And anyone who allies themselves with them will perish."


	5. The Passing of Technomages

**Chapter 5: The Passing of the Technomages**

January 17, 2359. Or was it the 18th? Or was it the 20th? Marcus had lost all count of the days as he piloted the shuttle. Susan hadn't awaken yet, and he was worried. She had probably broken her back, which made his helping her escape all that much more difficult. He could have done more damage than good by picking her up.

How he had failed. The guilt weighed down on him. Had he not been drunk...Will might not have died. He might have been able to save Susan. And he most definitely wouldn't be in the same shuttle as a Minbari.

The Minbari had not spoken since he had given him the coordinates of where they'd be going. It was nowhere within the Human Remnant or the Centauri Republic. In fact, it wasn't anywhere near any major power. Wherever this place was they were going, it wasn't even on the starcharts on the shuttle.

His companion wore a dark brown robe that was flung over his shoulder. All his clothing was a hue of brown. Regular brown or dark brown. On the left breast was a medallion of tequila green, with what looked like two Minbari surrounding it. He had gone into a meditation and had left the piloting to Marcus, who without any companions with which to talk to, he was unable to escape the feelings that pressed around him.

* * *

Jeffery Sinclair stepped out of the shower, picking up the towel and drying himself off. How he had fallen. He once had commanded this station, _Babylon 5._ It was the last of the stations built to defend the Epsilon system.

One and two had been built on the far side of the planet, and they were commanded by Captain Elizabeth Lockley and Sandra Hiroshi respectively. _Babylon 3_ had been constructed over Epsilon 2, where a colony of sixty thousand in the cities of New Washington and Nova Quebec had thrived. This station was commanded by Lt. General Carl O'Reilly who despite an impressive achievement in the Earth-Minbari War had become unsociable but was too valuable to be cast aside. _Babylon 4_ would have gone to Major Krantz but things happened in that sector of space that caused him to lose most of his sanity. Since then the entire area had been quarantined.

Sinclair had been promoted to Captain just in time to be assigned command of Babylon 5. This was to be the last station to be built by the Remnant Government. Not only had the Remnant run out of materials, but also the Centauri had put a stop to the program, calling it ineffectual use of time and money.

And then he had been captured. He had been back for nearly a month and a half now and still was waiting for New Geneva to allow him to resume his post and return Colonel Ari Ben Zayne back to command of whatever outfit he had been commanding before.

"You alright Captain?" a woman's voice came from out in the living room, and he snapped too, not realizing he had been lost in his thoughts.

"Yeah," he replied aloud, then softly to himself, "Yeah."

He finished drying himself then hurried and dressed. While he trusted Laura implicitly, he was by no means comfortable with being around her even in a bathrobe. As he walked out, he spotted Takashima holding a large glass of orange juice in her hands. Obviously not the for real stuff, but the substitute they'd created in the labs down below. How they had managed not to make real vegetables and fruits despite their advances in technology was beyond Sinclair.

"Anything good in the _Universe_?" he asked, spotting the paper in front of her and picking up a glass himself headed towards the sink.

"Nothing too much," she shrugged, "There is rumors though that Lord Reefa will be voted into the purple by the Centarum today."

"You know anything about the man?" he asked, filling the cup.

"Not much," she shrugged, "Besides his name and title."

Sinclair mused over his thoughts for a second, going through everything he knew about Reefa. He had been the Centauri overlord of the colonies of the old Earth Alliance before the fall of Earth that had escaped. Arisia III Colony, Vega 7 and Orion VII. Three colonies out of nearly a thousand. The Minbari had been very through.

The commscreen on the wall beeped, the symbol of the Human Remnant flashing as the call came through. The computer droned out, "Incoming transmission." Takashima turned, not at all uncomfortable in just her own bathrobe.

"Receive message," she said, "Full audio and visual."

The screen flickered and the scarred face of Ben Zayne appeared on the screen. He glared at the two of them.

"Commander Takashima," he barked, "Your report is incomplete. You shall have to rewrite it before going on duty."

"My report is complete sir," she replied, "Everything was there-"

"You misspelled my name," he interrupted, "And for that, you must rewrite the whole report."

"Now wait just a minute," Sinclair said defensively, coming to his friends defense, "Colonel, you cannot make a fuss over such a little-"

"Shut up mister," he growled, "Last I recalled you were no longer part of the command staff. You have until you go on-duty in Ops Commander."

And with that, the screen flickered off. Takashima let slip a torrent of vulgarities. Sinclair smiled sympathetically.

"If Colonel Ben Hitler wants that report done," he snarled, "He should shove it up his-"

"There's worse things in life," Sinclair said, his voice taking on that haunted quality it always got whenever he thought back to the war, even if it was for a second, "Believe me, I know."

The screen flickered again and "Incoming Transmission" came forth again. They both groaned audibly. It wasn't even 700 hours and it was already shaping up to be a bad day.

"Receive," she sighed, again being called by Ben Hitler, "Full everything."

The screen turned on and there sat Chief-of-Staff General Richard Franklin. Takashima shot up, her glass nearly flying off the table onto the floor in her haste. She snapped of a salute and said, "General, sir. I wasn't expecting you."

"Obviously not," 'Storming' Franklin replied with a criticizing eye, "Is Captain Sinclair there?"

"Right here sir," Sinclair replied, setting down the cup of water and stepping around the counter.

"Good," Franklin smiled none too warmly, "Are you tired of sitting up there without a command?"

A deep sigh of relief tried to escape him. But he held it in as he said, "Yes sir. D-n tired of it."

"Be down here in one hour," Franklin replied and the screen shut off.

Takashima and Sinclair passed a glance. Was he not getting to keep B5?

* * *

Three men sat around a small fire. The fire was on a small asteroid floating in space, a place full of magic and wonders greater than any man had imagined in their wildest dreams. It was no dome of transparent steel that kept them alive, but magic that created an air bubble around them.

Only one had hair, but he was not the leader. No, the leader sat in his black robes with wide brimmed neck that spanned back and out. Elric was not old, even by human standards. Being only 60 years of age. But, he commanded a respect from his two pupils that made the loyalty of many a soldier seem to be a sham.

"He failed," he said slowly, turning the force of his gaze on Matthew Gideon, "You told me that Vir Cotto could be trusted. That he could find the Starkiller. But he failed."

"He ran into complications," Matthew stumbled to get out but Elric's eyes flashed. He need no raising of hand to shut his pupils up.

"Complications are not our problem," he replied, "The Circle has decreed he must fight for the side of light. Even the Vorlons want John J. Sheridan, for whatever cryptic reason they have. And now the humans ally themselves with the Shadows. An intolerable series of events."

"And now there is a Minbari Ranger and two humans on their way here," the other young man, bald with hooked nose name Galen stated, "For what reason know I not."

"And there is a Vorlon also on their way here as well," Matthew said.

"This is becoming a busy place," Elric muttered, "Maybe too busy. What would a Ranger have with us? And why does the Vorlon come here? Do they not know we of the Order of Techno-Mages care not for their plans and schemes?"

His pupils did not answer. There was no reason they could say with any certainty.


	6. The Ones We Love

**Chapter 6: The Ones We Love**

Abel Horn's life had not been one of pleasure. Even before the destruction wrought by the Earth-Minbari War, he had been forced to live an existence of living hand to mouth. He had been turned out of his home at an early age, and he would never lower himself to the point where he would go back. Pride kept him away.

Free Mars had taken him in, at the time not a radical movement. They'd given his life a purpose and a focus. That's when he had first met Amanda Carter. She had been so..._infuriating_! Why had she been so stubborn? But, resistance was futile, and they had fallen in love. They never considered marriage, he knew he was not marriage material. But, it still hurt him badly when she had died. Her shuttle was shot from the sky by a Minbari fighter during the assault on Mars.

Why had she died and not him? Why hadn't his shuttle been shot down? Why didn't she listen to him and leave her job sooner and join him on the shuttle?

His self-loathing and pity drove him first to the bottle. And then, one day, six years ago, it led to the robbing of the New Geneva Bank. He hadn't even got out of the door with all the money in the bank, a pitiful amount to be sure, only 500,000 credits, when he had stepped in. He had no knowledge of what had happened next. The only thing he remembered was waking up on a cot in a cell.

"Welcome to the land of the living Mr. Horn," the short man with the black uniform had said, sitting on a chair next to him.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"Where you are is not important at the moment," he had said, "What is important is you take my offer. If you do not, you will die. I promise you that."

"What is the offer?"

There was a slight pause. "You have to answer yes before you learn what it is."

And now, six years later, he was one of the hit-men for Alfred Bester. Bester did not rely on telepaths for this dirty work. No, Bester understood that telepaths usually did not have the required levels of subtlety needed for the line of work that he had Able Horn do. And he was among the more deadly out there. His codename was "13".

He sat alone in the apartment in the lower rundown level of Nova Moscow. Despite having the Presidential Mansion in this city, much of it had fallen into disrepair, with most of the focus on the capitol city, New Geneva. Most didn't think about it, but as 13 looked out to the dome overhead, he wondered if they deserved what they had gotten.

The commscreen beeped on the other side of the room, and he turned, deftly avoiding the small table where his implements of death lay out. "Receive Transmission," the order came. And on the screen was Alfred Bester. He still was wrapped up heavily like a mummy on the bed, but his eyes showed no diminished power.

"13," he said, "How are you?"

"What do you want?" he asked.

Bester hesitated for a second before smiling. But it might have been a wince more than anything. He was in a lot of pain.

"I have a mission for you."

"Name the target."

* * *

"You want me to do what?"

"Is there a problem with your hearing soldier?"

"No sir," Sinclair replied, "But, you have every need for every experienced commander to command these stations. I was commanding _Babylon 5_ long before Colonel Ben Zayne was put in charge. And now you want me to go from commanding one of our defensive stations to prison duty?"

"Ben Zayne is a highly decorated soldier," Franklin replied, his round face and body spilling over the sides of his chair.

"But I have witnessed he is not mentally stable-"

"Enough!" Franklin slammed his hand on the ground, "I have given you an order. You will follow it, or else the Night Watch will love meeting with you. Do you understand?"

Sinclair stared at his superior. He did not want to believe that his training and value was to be thrown away guarding those who had no discipline of their own. It wasn't fair! But, he was a soldier, not anything more.

"Sorry sir," he sighed, "I just wanted my old command back."

"Maybe one day," Franklin said with a touch of sympathy in his voice, "But with the Minbari on their way, we need men who are a little crazy defending us."

* * *

How many days had he been back on Epsilon 3? A week now? Why was he not here with his family?

Anna Sheridan was a mess. She hadn't had much drive after IPX had laid her off do to a problem between her and a man named Justin, her immediate supervisor. But then, John had seemed to distant himself from her. Taking more and more risky assignments. She didn't know if this was his fault or hers. She had tried to give him a child...she had tried. But, there was still no child.

Lizzy had been here earlier, checking up on her, but found Anna unbathed and unkept. She had shaken her head and left without saying a word. And she was alone again.

She stared at the Narn liquor in the quarter and wondered if she should just drink it. Drink until either her husband showed up, or she passed out. It would make sure she didn't see the state of disrepair that the place had become.

There was a knock at the door and standing up she walked over to the door and opened it. Standing outside was a man with a smart suit and that smug smile businessmen give.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"What a coincidence," he said with mock surprise, "That's what I was going to ask. What do you want?"


	7. The Truths We Tell

**Chapter 7: The Truths We Tell**

Delenn sat in the chair, having gotten very little sleep. They had strapped her to this chair of cold metal, and every half hour a sharp needle shot through the chair at random points during the night...or was it night? Or was it day? She had entered this human buildings, and they had taken her around corners, up and down elevators, up and down stairs. She had gotten quiet confused and lost all sense of direction after a while.

Which was the whole point of it wasn't it? To confuse her? Keep her from escaping? Then they had thrown her in the room, and two brutes of men came in and stripped her naked, and threw a small simple cloth onto the ground. She had dressed to hide her nakedness, and they had then tied her to the chair.

Where was Zacllen? What would they do to him? She dared not think of what terrible things they'd do to her attaché. She dared not think at all. And this Valen forsaken needle that kept poking her was keeping her from sleeping too long or from meditating. Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her of how long it had been since she'd eaten. She was starving. Luckily though, as a full Minbari and not the freak she once was, she was now able to go two weeks without eating.

The door opened and a table was brought into the room by two large men. Then they left and brought in a chair. They left the room and closed the door. And a few seconds later the door opened and in through walked a balding man with a set of glasses. She had seen similar eyewear on many of the people they'd killed, and as the man sat down a large briefcase and opening up the case pulled out some papers and closed the case. Then, he pulled out a pen and coughed once.

"From henceforth you have no name," the man said, looking up at her through his glasses, "You have no rank. No title. No past. No future. No present. You will answer all questions immediately and truthfully or you will be punished. Do you understand me?"

Delenn did not answer. This was a small and pettish man. She looked away, sticking her nose up in the air. And that's when the needle shot forth and stabbed her in the small of her back. She gasped and clenched her teeth.

"You will answer immediately and truthfully or you will be punished," the man repeated, his hand holding a remote control in his hand, "Do you understand me?"

Delenn would not speak. She clenched her fist and clenched her teeth even harder. There was nothing this man could do to her to harm her.

And that's when the needle began to vibrate in her bone. She could feel the sting and cold shiver running up and down her spine. But still she would not answer. Even as she gasped for air.

"You will answer immediately and truthfully or you will be punished," the man repeated, moving his thumb to a higher point on the remote, "Do you understand me?"

She tried to resist speaking but that's when the jolt of the electrical charge shot through her body. Starting from the back, it traveled outwards, running down to her toes then reversing direction and running back up her legs and though her hips. She could feel it shooting to her shoulders where it broke into two parts and ran to her hands and to her fingertips. From there it backtracked to the spinal column, and headed up to the skull and head-bone and eyeballs. A flash of red and white stars erupted in her vision.

"You will answer immediately and truthfully or you will be punished. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," she gasped out. And with that the current ran down to the needle and it pulled from her body.

"Good thing you answered when you did," the interrogator said, "The next one would have started pumping in numbing medicine to your limbs. Eventually I would have had the needle shot a poison that's been proven to rupture the bones of the Minbari. You would have died within three or four increases of pain. Wouldn't you say that you were fortunate?"

She was uneasily taking in breaths, her whole body trembling. Her body just seemed unable to stop shaking. It was unthinkable. But, she did not answer soon enough. And with a push of the button, she felt the needle shoot into her shoulder blade. She cried out in pain.

"Wouldn't you say that you were fortunate?" he asked again.

"Why-" she said slowly, her voice making her words quake, "Why are you doing this to me?"

The interrogator looked at her without a smile. He stood up from his chair and walking around the table sat down on the end and looking over at her seemed to consider the question.

"I will not lie to you, Minbari," he said finally, "I am your only friend. They want to kill you out there. Execute you for your crimes."

"My crimes?" she asked, narrowing her eyes, "I have committed no crimes."

"Oh really?" he asked.

"Yes."

She cried in pain as the needle shot through the back of her kneecap. The interrogator did not so much as blink. But he stared at her.

"Did I not tell you to tell me only the truth?" he asked.

"Yes-" she said and he held up his hand as the needle withdrew itself.

"Then why do you lie?" he asked, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder, "I have the power to save you Minbari. You are suppose to be a leader among your people. Did not you people committee genocide against us?"

"Yes but-"

"Did you not order humans destroyed?"

"It was not like that."

"Are you not even now preparing to go to war against us?"

"I did not want this to happen!"

The interrogator stopped and looking down at her, sighed. "This will take longer than I thought. Oh well, I shall see you tomorrow."

And before she could ask, he was gone, the table and chair was gone, and she was alone. By herself.

* * *

_"Tell me the codes to the defensive systems of Epsilon 3."_

_"Up yours," he managed through the cord around his neck that was making it hard to breath._

_"Tell me the codes to the defensive systems of Epsilon 3."_

_"No," he wouldn't. He couldn't._

_"Then you will die here," Jha'dur's voice cackled, "But not until I have what I want."_

_And the pain increased. And he was screaming._

* * *

"AHHH!" Sheridan screamed as he jolted awake. The secretary from behind the desk looked up at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. He looked around, his mind trying to figure out where he was. That's...that's right. He was in General Hague's reception area. Waiting for the general to see him.

"Are you alright sir?" the woman asked.

He looked around and nodded. "Sure," he muttered, "I'm fine."

The woman glanced at him a few more seconds before the light at the corner of her desk beeped twice green. She glanced down at it and back up at Sheridan.

"The General will see you now," she said, and he slowly stood up, pulling on the edge of his coat to straighten it.

He turned on his heel and walked to the door and grabbing the knob opened it. The General was sitting behind his desk, a pencil in hand. He was bent over a piece of paper and Sheridan at once could see that he wasn't writing. No, the man was drawing.

Odd. He didn't know the general was into drawing.

"Come in and close the door behind you," Hague said, not looking up at him, "And take a seat Captain."

He blinked before shrugging and doing so. He stepped around one of the few chairs in the office and sat down.

"Good work out there Sheridan," Hague placed the pencil on the table and looked up at him, "The fact you didn't break after three months of torture and got a Minbari to defect and captured a member of their Grey Council. I must say I am impressed."

"Not all the credit goes to me General," Sheridan reminded him, "I wasn't there when the Satai was captured."

"Those are details the public doesn't want to hear," Hague pointed out.

"Sir?"

"The people need a hero, especially after an upsetting defeat in Quadrant 14 by the Narns," Hague said, "And while I might not like you Sheridan, you fit the bill. The cocky hero saving the entire Human race. And with the Minbari on their way-"

"Do we strike them before they get here?" Sheridan ask, "Protect Arisia III before they arrive in the next week?"

Hague shook his head. "No," he replied, "We do not have the resources to defend the original colonies. They will have to be sacrificed to defend here. Until then, your crew gets a leave of absence for two weeks. Heavens knows you and your people need R&R. Get your people-"

"I don't think that would be wise sir," Sheridan interrupted him, "We go out, and with our new allies backing us up, we can take the war to the enemy."

Hague glared at him. Sheridan had crossed a line with him, but Sheridan didn't care. He knew what was best for humanity. Not this peacock before him.

"I am the General here and I say what goes," Hague said.

"But sir-"

"Be silent Captain Sheridan!" Hague snapped, standing to his feet and towering over him in his rage, "Now leave now before I have you court-martialed for insubordination."

Sheridan smiled smugly as he stood up and walked to the door. He was grabbing the doorknob when Hague asked, "Why won't you just ever follow orders Sheridan without always trying to think you're better than the rest of us? Who are you?"

_Who are you?_ Sheridan stiffened and turned to Hague, frowning slightly. Hadn't he heard that question before? He shrugged mentally and left the office.


	8. Movement of Politics, Machines, and Soul

**Chapter 8: Movements of Politics, Machines, and Soul**

Michael Garibaldi sat in _Bo's Drink and Sink_, the large glass of water in front of him. Somehow...heavens knew why and how, he'd been able to avoid climbing into the bottle after that terrible day of coming home and finding the bodies of his wife and child in his home. It had taken him nearly three weeks to get everything cleaned up and fixed, but he had.

Whatever he might think of Bester though, he had to be grateful for him. Without his jobs, he'd have sunk back into the bottle. And Garibaldi wanted to avoid that at all costs. The last time he had...mean things, terrible things had been said. And they were everything that had slipped from his mouth.

_Stop thinking about that,_ he angrily reproached himself. _No use dwelling on the past, it always will be there._

"Got to tell you Mikey," Bo said, standing behind the bar and wiping a spill from where a Drazi had fallen asleep and tipped over his glass, "Why do Drazi keep buying whiskey? They can't keep it down."

He shrugged his shoulder, "Your guess is as good as mine."

"I'd rather not," Bo shuddered, "Hey Mack, where's that barrel? I'm still waiting on more brivari."

"Get it yourself," the voice of his partner said, his feet the only thing to be seen sticking out from underneath an antique jukebox. There wasn't too many of those around, but Mack had somehow been able to find someone willing to part with theirs. It had been playing a tune by Dean Martin, but then some idiot Brakiri had fallen back on it when a Vree had pushed him during a scuffle and now it wasn't playing at all.

"Good for nothing creep," Bo muttered and shook his head, "I'd just have Tom do it, but he disappeared after lunch."

"Again?" Garibaldi raised his eyebrows.

"Again. I tell you Mikey, there's a lot of bad things in this world. Minbari. Narns. Aliens in general. But I really hate lazy workers. You know why? I'll tell you why. They got no respect for anybody or anything. To them it's all a big game. Something that's a joke. Unions are bad that way too. I'd hoped we got rid them all after Earth fell. But _no_...we got the Knights of Workers, The Circle of Workers, the Kingdom's Workers and whatchmacallem...the Last Best Hope of the Workers or some other smuck?"

Bo nodded, tossing the wet rag over his shoulder. Garibaldi was not so much interested in Bo's less then interesting life. No, he was more interested in the man who was sitting in the corner of the bar. He'd come here every day, same time for an hour, and would talk to three people. Always the same people. Who they were, he had no idea. But clearly they were looking to him for some type of arraignment. Reporting maybe?

He also never seemed to drink more than one cup. Take two gulps between each person. And currently he was talking with a Narn. Peculiar that. What with the war and all. He'd only gotten his last name so far. Varner.

The man was wrapping up his business and leaning back in his seat. Then with a drop of his money he stood and left out of the side door. Garibaldi had been told by Bester to watch him for any peculiar doings. Supposedly the guy was dealing in illegal technology. If anybody would find out, it'd be Garibaldi.

Bo was about to launch into another drinking story when Garibaldi stood up and making his apologizes headed towards the door. He opened the door and entered the side street. He glanced the direction Varner had gone, and saw him turn off onto the main street. Heading out towards the road, he turned. And stopped as he crashed into a woman.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, as she backed up shortly, "Sorry."

"Wow," she said, looking up at him with an annoyed look, "Did you even look before you decided to round that corner?"

"Sorry," he repeated, "I was busy with something else."

"I'll accept your apology on one condition," she said.

"And what's that?"

"You buy me a drink."

"I prefer buying drink for people I know."

"Name's Elizabeth Durman," the red head said, "But friend call me Dodger."

"Name's Michael Garibaldi," he shrugged and turning led her back to the bar. Okay, maybe he'd get trouble from the Boss, but, he'd like to make it up to this woman.

Dodger followed him and said, "You know Michael, for a klutz, you got a real nice butt."

* * *

_Vir stood in a hallway, having just arrived on Minbar. He looked down the crystal-lined hallway and spotted a door. He picked up his diplomatic packet he'd received before arriving, and read again the name of the Minbari official he'd be meeting. Someone by the name of Sech Morannin._

_There wasn't much time to get to the meeting, and so he'd better get to it. As he started down the hallway, he was about to enter the room at the far end when the lights shut off. His hearts had jumped at that and he grabbed his chest. Well, he wasn't expecting that._

_Nor did he expect the sound of buzzing that he heard or the explosion of stars in his eyes as he took a punch to the eye-socket. He stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. He didn't have time to take in the attack when he was lifted bodily from the floor and tossed across the room, hitting the crystal that should have been emitting light from the wall. He looked up and could make out the outline of a large being above him leering down at him. _

_He could see the creature raise up his shadowy hand to strike. When suddenly, a blast of white lightning struck the beast and made it scream and tumble. And there out of the wall walked a human. He could tell in the dark because a blue aura appeared around the man, and he wore a leather robe and a large staff in his hand._

_"If you value your life you shall flee from this place Vir Cotto," the man said, the beast roaring as it sprang forward. The human struck it with the tip of his staff and molten red light erupted from where he hit the beast._

_"No...no...no," Vir stuttered, standing up despite he was trembling, "I'll...fight...with you. This beast...creature...thing shouldn't be fought by you alone. Well...maybe, but you should have...you know...help."_

_"Your valiancy is noted Vir Cotto," the human smiled, "And I will call upon it someday. But let me deal with this creature."_

_Vir wanted to argue, but then the beast attacked, and the human nearly lost his grip on the staff but maintained a grip. He was last seen fighting to hold the staff as the creature tried to rip it out of his hands. Vir didn't wait any longer to do as he was told. He turned and ran._

Vir's eyes snapped awake, the door chiming. For a second he though perhaps the beast had caught him. No...no. That was two years ago. When he first arrived here. That was when he had met Matthew Gideon and had joined the Conspiracy of Light. Well, actually cofounded it with Gideon.

The door chimed again and standing up he grabbed the robe. He threw it over him and called out, "Wait a moment. Maybe two. Or three would be more like it." Stumbling he went to the door, his eyes dropping in his weariness. He had been up most of the night.

The door opened and in through the door stepped Sech Morannin. The elderly Minbari had a short beard as was the custom of many of his people. His head bone was the hardened points of a warrior. Indeed, besides perhaps Sech Durhan, he was perhaps the greatest warrior of his day and age.

"How are you Ambassador Vir?" Morannin bowed his head in respect to Vir's position.

"A little tired to be sure," Vir said, then slapping himself on the head said, "But let me not be, you know, rude. Would you care for something? I can make some hot jala. Or maybe some fine brivari. Oh wait...you can't drink brivari. It's got alcohol."

"Unless you'd like a firsthand look at how homicidal Minbari can get," Morannin shrugged, "I'd say that would be a bad idea. No, I thought I'd deliver the news personally."

"Oh?" Vir said, "And what's that?"

"Lord Antono Refa, until recently Overseer of the Human Colonies has been voted to the purple by your Centarum."

Vir's eyes widened in disbelief. "But...but..." he stammered, "Cartagia was next in line to the throne. I realize that Emperor Turhan was murdered by those barbaric Narns, but Cartagia should have been made Emperor. Is he-"

Sech Morannin shrugged. "I don't know if he's alive or dead," he replied, and stepping forward placed a hand on Vir's shoulder, "I do realize he was a friend of yours. The Priestlings have a saying though. Faith manages. I do not ascribe to the faith, but, I know there are no such things as coincidences. And some things are not explainable. Can I count on you to be to the meeting of Sechs tonight?"

Vir couldn't say anything. Could his friend be dead? While he admitted his friend was an odd one...well...he was still a friend. He turned to Morannin and nodded. The Warrior looked at him, then bowed to him and turned on his heel and left.

* * *

Abel Horn entered the entrance to the underground labyrinth of the Great Machine. So what if there was technology beyond belief? What did it matter? His orders were to kill the Minbari currently in custody of the Machine and take over. And that's what he'd do.

The dark dusty and stony hallways seemed to branch off every thirty feet. They led to rooms full of computers, or more hallways, or room where no light seemed to enter. Horn could have lost himself exploring even the first section of the Machine. But, Bester had given him clear instructions. And his instructions kept him on a straight path.

He had come to a great cavern, filled with great wires and tubes and transports. He had barely even glanced at them. He had a job to do. And he must focus on it. The loss of focus was the death of any assassin. He came down a hallway where a skeleton lay, pistol in hand. Clearly he had been killed by a booby trap. But, a quick thinking or two got him past the deadly lasers just fine. Then, he had continued following the passageway to the Martix of the Great Machine. He saw the body of the Minbari inside. And out stepped the Minbari in holographic form.

"Abel Horn of Mars," Draal said, stepping up to him slowly, "You have spent your life looking for a purpose. A purpose of meaning. A purpose to live. Death has not always been your cause."

"There is no cause now," he snarled, his hand moving to the PPG at his side, "None worth living for. You Minbari destroyed that."

Draal sighed and shook his head. "That is where you are wrong," he said, "Here, let me show you."

And the eyes of Abel Horn's understand was opened. He stood there for he didn't know how long, looking and seeing what was, could have been and what was to be. He was sent into areas where no human had dreamed of in their most vivid dreams. He heard the voices and whispers on planets that once been benefitted from the greatness of composers and thinkers that put Aristotle and Beethoven to shame. And he finally understood.

And when the vision was over, he looked at him, with wonder in his eyes. There was a cause worth fighting for. One worth dying for. One worth believing in.

"I swear to defend this Machine with my life."


	9. The Many Wives of Londo Mollari

**Chapter 9: The Many Wives of Londo Mollari**

He had been recalled from the front lines after the death of the Emperor Turhan. He barely escaped the bloody coups and countercoups of the nobility those frightening days right after his Majesty was so brutally killed by mere chance. He had survived so much.

But, as he stepped off the landing ramp of the shuttle and onto the landing platform which stood a hundred feet off the ground in the lands outside the Imperial Capitol, he shuddered at the sight that presented itself to him. How he wished he could use his guards on these three. Well...now come to think of it...

"Welcome home, Londo darling," the tallest and oldest of his three wives said.

"Yes Londo," the second tallest and by far the youngest and prettiest of his wives said, "We've been waiting for you with breathless anticipation."

The shortest of the three just huffed in sheer distaste of the other wives and her husband. Londo rubbed his forehead.

"Ladies," he smiled with sarcastic glee, "Daggier, Mariel, and Timov. What a sight to behold!"

"When you actually put some effort into looking you mean," Timov scoffed, "I'd dare say you might actually have a different opinion. You might actually see that you are a pompous fool."

"Oh, dear Timov," Daggier said in an aside to her, "Do you have to always spread your hate with everyone?"

"A b-h like you and Mariel know all about spreading, don't you," she spat acidly.

Yes...this would be a _long _day.

* * *

His estate lay near the city of Callablan, two hundred miles south of the Capitol City. The Mollari estate had three thousand acres to it, seventy-nine servants, fifty-five guards and a large orchard that grew Jalo. Jalo was a fruit that was the main ingredient in the drink jala. The fruit fermented very quickly once picked and twice a year it was harvest time for the fruit. That's where a good deal of the substantial fortune of the House Mollari came from.

The building was shaped like one of those castles from the old continent of Europe on Earth. However, the stone work was a fine orange-yellow and while the main house was on the bottom flats, there was a second part of the house that stood on a short cliff that rose near the top of the battlements. This was connected by a durasteel glass tube that slanted up the hill but was in the air. A great iron and electric gate and wall surrounded the estate and another one around the house.

The Prime Minister of the Centauri Republic entered the main den after leaving the hovercraft and looked around at the fireplace. The great trophies that were mounted to the wall. There was many beasts, a preserved Na'ka'leen Feeder in one corner, a tentacle in the air. The head of a Xon mounted over the fireplace. And many more beasts in the room. There was his chair near the fireplace, next to his bookcase and near the computer terminal.

He stalked over to the fireplace and slid onto the chair, allowing the fine leather and cushioning to take him to a happy center. So many had died recently, so much responsibility was on his shoulders. He should go to the Capitol and report in. He'd do it tomorrow. There was always tomorrow.

* * *

"Come Londo," a voice said in his ear. He opened his eyes and noted first that it was very dark outside. How long had he slept?

Next he noticed was Mariel standing next to him, in that fitting and revealing night gown. How many other people had soiled that? He knew the truth. He knew of her activities. She latched onto anyone with power and if they weren't careful, they'd be burned.

"Let's go to bed," she said sweetly.

"And who did you do this time, my dear Mariel?" he smirked with a yawn, not really wanting to move, "Did you do Urza? My old friend would not be so happy with you. Did you get your hooks in the current Emperor? That would suit you, yes."

"Let us not think of such things," Mariel replied, smoothly avoiding answering the question, "Let us go to bed."

"Gods," he muttered, rising to his feet, "If it isn't you spending your considerable talents on anyone with tentacles, it's Daggier spending all my money. And Timov, also plotting my death. But, what does it matter?"


	10. Betrayal

**Chapter 10: Betrayal**

Bester was up on his feet. The doctor's warned him about putting too much strain on his weak legs. But, what did the mundanes know? They were alone in their thoughts, which if one had the gift could peel back the lies and see into what made the person tick.

_Well..._he groaned as he collapsed onto the floor, _maybe they did know their jobs and in this matter I should follow the orders of the mundanes._

He heard clapping from across the wall and gritting his teeth snapped, "If you are quiet done having fun at my expense, how about you help me up?"

"Oh no Al," Talia giggled from her seat, legs crossed, "You got yourself into that position and you can get yourself out."

"D-n you," he snarled, but he reached out to the support bars that lined the walls of the hospital room. Give him another week, and he'd be out of here. Hopefully he had a week before Clark moved against him. Talia, bless her naive heart, thought that Clark was a good man. That he wasn't as bad as Bester made him out to be.

He only wished that Talia was right and not misguided.

* * *

Sheridan sat on the chair, looking at his father. Why did his father have to be so blasted stubborn? David Sheridan's blood disorder had turned nasty and it was clear he didn't have long to live. Lizzy had asked if he'd try talking their dad into going to a hospital.

But, as he watched his dad's shrunken features and looked at his labored breathing, he knew it was nearing the end.

"Dad?" he asked softly, and David turned to look at his son's face.

"Yes?" he replied, his voice gravelly, "What Johnny?"

"Why didn't you go to a doctor before this got so far along?" he asked, "THey could have done something."

"It'd-wouldn't have made any-" David coughed harshly, pressing his hands to his mouth. When he finally was able to get control and pulled his hands away, Sheridan saw flecks of dark blood on his hands.

"It wouldn't have made any difference son," David finished his thoughts.

"Sure there could have," Sheridan argued, trying to put on a brave face but David held up a trembling hand.

"No," David said, "They no longer are able to produce the medicine I need. I'm at the-end of the-line, Johnny."

Sheridan leaned forward and placed his face in his hands, trying to hide his fear from his father's observant and scrutinizing eyes. His father had always known what needed to be done to fix any situation or could have seen the truth just by looking into the eyes of those around him. This wasn't the time for him to see his sons' fears.

"I will not tell you not to cry for me when I'm gone," he said, reaching over and with a sorrowfully weak grip pulled Sheridan's hands from his face, "Not all tears are evil. But, listen to me Johnny. These-" a short coughing fit interrupted him, "new allies of ours worry me. I-will not be forced to see what comes from our alliance. But-Johnny." Another coughing fit. "Don't trust them. My gut tells me they don't really-want to help-us. Some favors come with too high a - price. Remember that. Don't trust them."

"They've been nothing but good to us," Sheridan shook his head, "They've given me the means to save Stephan and also helped me escape."

"No one does anything for free," David shook his head, "They will reveal their true selves sooner or later."

* * *

"Are you sure about this?"

"There is no other way."

"I could control him."

"Men such as him are never controlled. He will present a problem to our plans."

"And what of Sheridan?"

"We have our own plans for him. Ways to guarantee his loyalty. My associates need that from him. But Bester needs to be dealt with. Him and all his associates and those loyal to him. As soon as that happens, my associates can begin doing what needs to be done to safeguard you and gain your revenge against the Minbari. Consider it, a small token in return for our aid."

* * *

They were coming. They were in the hospital. He already felt the thoughts of two doctors extinguished. Talia lay asleep in the chair, curled up. Bester would not be able to get out on his own or even defend himself physically. He looked at Talia and with the force of a brick thrown at her shouted telepathically, _Awake!_

* * *

Had it truly been a full month since he'd got back from his mission and captivity? And yet, he hadn't stepped foot inside his own house. It wasn't home to him. Sure, she was there...but...she had no fire inside of her anymore. Not since...oh well. It didn't really matter.

He walked through the door and entered immediately into the living room. And it looked...well...clean. That shocked him. Anna hadn't ever been one too be too tidy a person, but the last two years she had slowly slipped on it. Last time he had been here, they had argued badly over this issue. Harsh words had been exchanged.

And as he stood there, taking it in, out walked Anna from the outside. And she stopped when she saw him and stared. John Sheridan was not easily seduced. But, when he looked at Anna, and the aroma of cherry blossoms came from her, must have been a pretty penny she spent on it, his heart at once melted.

"Uh..." he said.

Anna smiled sweetly with a side of annoyance. "Is that the best you could do John?" she reproached him, "Been hear a month and haven't even swung by to see your wife."

John shook his head, "No...no...not that at all," he assured her, "It's just that...well...you seem so...happy now."

Anna walked up to him and closed the door behind him. She looked up at his eyes and Sheridan fell into the wells of her soul.

"And you look so much more harder and troubled then last time I saw you," she said softly, "Come John, have some lunch, and we can talk about it. Then afterwards, perhaps I can help you relieve some of that pain you've had for so long."

Sheridan smiled and bending down cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply.

Anna Sheridan had been asked the question. "What do you want?" Her answer, "I want John to love me as before. I want us to be happy. I want to have a child. I want to no longer feel trapped by my own inadequacies." And he had given her the one thing that helped her become a better person. The one thing that could keep her from falling back to her old self-pity.

_Good Anna. Do as I say. Speak as I say. And you shall be happy. He shall be happy. _

_Will you always be there?_

_I will be here forever._

* * *

The Special Agents broke into the room, PPG's drawn. They looked around the room, looking for their target. The lead agent waved his hand and flicked it in one direction. And the man to the right walked quietly through the room. Another flick of his hand sent the other man around the left. And he slowly stalked into the room, ever so slowly and quietly walking.

He knew his job. They all did. Blank out any thoughts in your mind. Telepaths can't read a blank mind. They taught telepaths recently brought into the Corps that you can block the voices by building a wall visually behind your eyes. And that's simply what he'd done. That's what they all had done. Better not give no advantage if possible.

But, there was no stopping a physical attack. The bed sped across the floor and the one the agents collapsed with hardly a sound, his head hitting the side of the wall and stunning him. He had barely dropped when the chair rose from the floor and hurled itself at the second agent. He spotted it and ducked, turning his pistol immediately at where the chair had come from. But he hesitated and the chair slammed down onto his head, breaking not only the bones of his skull but also the whole frame of the chair.

He had seen this and fired blindly, just firing in the supposed direction of the attack. He had heard that telepaths could make themselves invisible in the eyes of those around. There was a cry of pain as a plasma burst caught his attacker. But, he didn't even feel the knife that slashed across his throat and he fell dead.

"Are you alright Talia?" Bester asked, dropping the illusion he had created in his mind.

Talia was grabbing her arm, clenching her teeth. She looked up tersely and said, "I-I'll be-fine."

"I told you Clark was coming after us," he grunted, holding himself up by the bar, "I'd hoped we'd get another few days. We better be leaving. I'll need your help Talia."

She reached down and grabbed a PPG from one of the assassins and limped over to him. Sure, there was nothing wrong with her legs, but limping helped. She got near her love and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, holding his short body upright.

"Well, husband," she said, walking slowly towards the door to allow him to keep up, "How about we find you a wheelchair?"

"Good idea, Wifey," Bester smiled, "And then I'll push you." They had barely emerged from the door when PPG blasts crisscrossed from both sides of the hall. This would make it all the more interesting.


	11. Past Regrets

**Chapter 11: Past Regrets**

The commscreen beeped from the living room. Sheridan's eyes snapped awake, and glanced around the bedroom. The screen was still beeping, and he glanced at the beautiful redhead in bed beside him. Her body was turned to him, the blanket pulled up to her shoulders, but leaving enough room for him to see her beautiful soft skin. He bent over with a smile and kissed her lightly on the cheek and she moaned slightly. He pulled his body away from her and let her arm which had been draped over him to fall on the bed.

Grabbing a bathrobe he hurried and pulled it on and stepped out of the room, closing the sliding wood-door behind him. Stepping up to the screen and tying the robe sash around his middle, he glanced up at the screen, blinking away as much of the sleepiness as he could.

"Receive Transmission," he commanded and the screen flickered to show the round hard face of General Richard Franklin, "Why General. I wasn't expecting to hear from you."

"Sorry to interrupt you Sheridan," he said with a crispness in his voice that made the apology seem unreal, "I was wondering if you would accompany me up to the _Agamemnon._"

Sheridan smiled slightly, "Forgive me sir, but, I am on ordered shore leave."

"That's why I am asking and not ordering you," he said, "I don't even expect you to come in your uniform. But, if you'll come, I'd like to have a chat with you."

Sheridan looked back at the door that led to his sleeping wife. _Well, she wouldn't miss me for too long. I can spare a few hours._ He turned to the screen and shrugged.

"I'll be there in half an hour."

* * *

Delenn was dozing, sleep deprivation making it all the harder to concentrate and focus. A fascinating technique to break the will of someone. And how long had she been here again? She forgot. She had no idea. All she wanted to do was sleep.

The door opened and the two guards brought the table. And then they brought in a chair. And in came that man. The interrogator. She needed something to eat. Even as she looked at him, she felt her weak body protesting the lack of food.

"Hello Delenn," he said, opening his briefcase ever so slowly, "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Morning?" she asked, squinting at the open door, "It's night."

"How do you know it's night?" he asked, sitting down in the chair and pulling out some papers.

"There's no sun," she replied.

"Sun?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"Yes," she replied, "both times you've been here the sun has been up. But there is no sun up. So it must be night."

"What?" he asked scoffingly, raising up the remote and pushing a button. A light appeared from outside the door and in fell the light, "That? That's not sunlight."

"But I thought-"

"Thought what?"

She shook her head. There was no use to speaking. But, without warning, the sharp jab of the needle into her elbow made her squeeze her eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears of pain.

"Thought what?"

"I thought it was sunlight outside," she gave in. It was so much easier giving in. Especially since the needle was withdrawn.

"Despite the fact it wasn't sunlight out there you took it for the truth," the interrogator said, a thoughtful look on his face, "Didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Truth," the interrogator said, "A difficult thing at best. Never the same."

"You are wrong," she said, "Truth is always the same."

"Really?" the interrogator asked. She made the mistake of not answering immediately, and the needle shot into the back of her knees. "Really?"

"Yes," she replied defiantly.

"The truth is always changing, always transforming," the interrogator countered, "It changes according to our beliefs, our laws, our customs. Teaching and training teaches us otherwise. Truth never remains the same."

"Truth is never changeable," she firmly said, the lack of truth helping her steel her resolve. They couldn't strip the truth away from her. It only made her stronger. Nobler.

"What is your sexual preference?" he asked.

"That's none of your concern," she held her nose up in the air, trying to put on a brave show of indifference. But the needle that had been withdrawn shot into her hipbone.

"As long as you are here it is my concern," he replied, leaning back in his chair, "What is your sexual preference?"

"I-" she said, trying to use her meditation techniques Draal had taught her to move past the pain. But her act of defiance was meet with the vibration of the needle, much fiercer then anything before, and she screamed as her bones felt sure to break from the vibration.

"What is your sexual preference?"

"I am interested in males!" she cried out, and the vibration stopped and the needle withdrew.

"Were you interested in males when you were a child?"

"No."

"The truth then changed."

"It never did."

"As a child it was true that you had no interest in males. But as your grew older the truth changed. The truth is now your are interested in males."

"That has nothing to do with this," she snarled.

"Oh really?" he countered, "Was it not the truth it was a good idea to meet other races? Extend a hand of friendship? That all life deserves a second chance for mistakes?"

"That has always been the truth," she retorted.

"But that wasn't the truth thirteen years ago was it?" the interrogator demanded.

"What do you mean?" she asked, panic filling her soul. Did he know?

"After your people came to meet with us and we fired on the ship, killing your leader, was it not true we were animals and needed to be slaughtered? Was it not true we deserved no mercy?"

"I did not think clearly at the time," she said, "He was the greatest of us all. Dukhat was everything to us."

"But I thought mercy and second chances was a gift for all races," the interrogator stated.

"It is."

"Then why did not that truth apply to us for a mistake we made?"

"I was blinded by hatred."

"So the truth was at that moment that we deserved no mercy," he pressed, "Is that it?"

"We were mad with grief!" she begged, "Our hatred blinded us."

"And does not the truth get shaped by our emotions?" he asked, standing and walking around the table slowly, "Does not a man who is truthfully one day my friend might truthfully not be my friend the next? Does not our favorite color change with time? Does that not mean the truth has changed?"

"Opinions might change," she said softly, "But the truth always remains the same."

"Was it not the truth we were the enemy?"

"Yes."

"Did it not become the truth that we were not the enemy?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"How did we suddenly stop being the enemy?"

"We of the Grey Council ordered the killing to be stopped," she explained.

"You changed the truth," he said, "By ordering your ships to stand down you said we were no longer the enemy. You changed the truth. Are we still not the enemy?"

"We were discussing your status when I was captured," she rolled her eyes.

"That might be the truth," he shrugged, "But a whole fleet of your warships is within a day of one of our colonies. Arisia III. A mining colony."

"Impossible," she shook her head, "The Grey Council cannot make decisions without the full Council being present."

"But they are," the interrogator assured her, "And they will finish us off."

"No," she whispered, "In Valen's Name. Minbari do not kill Minbari."

"But we aren't Minbari are we?" the interrogator scoffed, "We aren't worthy of your respect. I don't know why you stopped before. But, tell me, how many ships do you have for your fleet? You say we are not the enemy? Prove it."

"The Council cannot do anything without the full Council," she protested, "That is how Valen set us up."

"They are going without you being there," he said, "They're betraying the truth your Valen person said. Is not the role of a leader to help stop the madness of her people? To lead the people correctly? Is that not a truth?"

"It is," she said, staring off to the wall, "But, to do what you ask would break my oath. Break my vows. I cannot help you betray my people. We were evenly divided. My vote was to be the deciding vote. They cannot move without my vote."

"But they are," he repeated, "Tell me truthfully, if they are doing so are they not at fault? Are you betraying your people if they've already betrayed the laws set forth?"

* * *

"What is your assessment?" Frederick Lantz, Director of the Ministry of Peace and Truth asked.

The interrogator stood before the small group of men gathered. In middle was President Clark, looking down on him with his smug expression. Mr. Wells sat to the right, the Minister of the Department of Alien Relations looking none too happy. And Mr. Lantz sat to the left. The current Vice-President, Elise Vodreau was sick and hadn't been able to attend. And on the farthest right was Chief-of-Staff William Hague.

"I learned a little bit from today," he replied, "First I learned that she likes 'males'." This caused the testosterone group chuckle. "Second is that there is a definite division when it comes to this war. They had been debating going to war again when she left. According to her, there was a deadlock and she was the deciding vote."

"And what would have been her vote?" Hague asked.

"From what I gathered she wouldn't have voted for this war," he said.

"You sure?" Hague asked.

"Positive," he said, "She's was quiet adamant that 'Minbari do not kill Minbari'. Whatever that means."

"Might be a proverb or something," Wells, who hadn't said anything at all during this time said, "A meaning that all life is held the same."

"And what of the other Minbari?" Lantz asked.

"He's proven a bit harder to crack then Satai Delenn," he admitted, "I have given up hope on traditional means. I'd like to bring in a telepath to steal the information."

"Do it," Clark said, suddenly speaking, "They will hit Arisia III within hours. We can only hope that the defense system will hurt enough of them to slow them down some. This blasted Narn-Centauri conflict is strapping our military resources. Any advantage will help us."

* * *

"Captain, did you feel a murder when you took out the Minbari _Black Star _battlegroup?" Franklin asked, sitting in the passenger seat as Sheridan piloted them to the _Agamemnon_.

"I'm sure the Minbari believe so," he chuckled, "I bet they think I'm a murder having destroyed as many Minbari cruisers and ships as I have. But killing is a soldiers responsibility."

"Do you have any children?" Franklin asked, looking over at Sheridan in the co-pilot's seat.

"Have? No," he shook his head, "Want? Yes. Very much so."

Sheridan could see Franklin chuckling to himself. "They are a joy and a pain beyond measure. It's hardest to be accused of being a murderer when it comes from your own child."

Sheridan glanced over at Franklin and frowned slightly. He had known the General since the end of the Earth-Minbari War, when the _Lexington_ was among the few ships to get out of the war. That and a few other capitol ships. A couple Nova Cruisers. Mostly _Hyperion-Classes_ such as the _Lexington_. That was before the _Omega_-Classes such as the _Agamemnon_ were on the drawing boards.

Franklin was a h-l-raiser that was for sure. He was a hard-bitten soldier if there ever was one. But, he'd always respected Franklin on a much deeper level then Hague, who he secretly believed was jealous of his rising popularity and wanted Sheridan dead. Heck, the whole mission to capture a member of the fabled yet secret Grey Council was probably a way to get rid of Sheridan. But, never had Franklin borne his soul.

"Are you talking about Stephan?" he asked cautiously.

Franklin turned his face away and stared at the floor between his feet. He took a slow and steady breath. Feelings and failures had never been easy for Franklin to admit. No matter the fact so many had been made. So many had been made since that fateful day when a Minbari cruiser dropped in to say hi to a trigger-happy captain.

"Stephan was different from all my other children," Franklin said with a sadness but soft edge of pride, "They all wanted to be military. But not Stephan. Not since...well, that doesn't matter. Stephan always wanted to save lives and never could understand why I had to leave. Oh, he claimed to have accepted it, but when he ran away from home...John, I didn't see him for nearly ten years. He came back and joined Earthforce. I was so proud. But, despite having notes on the Minbari, he refused to turn them over. No matter the personal cost."

Sheridan nodded slowly. "Makes sense," he said.

Franklin didn't look up as he asked, "Sheridan, what's he like? I haven't spoken to my son since the fall of Earth. He won't talk to me. And I fear there might never be a chance for us to talk."

"The finest doctor I've ever met," Sheridan said with the pride born of his friendship with the doctor, "He's good at what he does, he refuses to give up. And he's a holy terror when his principles are challenged."

"Good," Franklin laughed, "A man who won't stick up for his principles isn't really a man."

Sheridan smiled, "That's what my father's always taught me."


	12. Suppressed Memories

**Chapter 12: Suppressed Memories**

Arisia III had never been heavily populated by humans. It had been bypassed during the Earth-Minbari War because of the fact that the Alliance military, hard pressed, had been forced to choose places to defend and which were expendable. And as such, it had been bypassed by the Minbari, and it was one of the few of the Outer Colonies to survive the war. Even now less than thirty-thousand lived on the planet, but due to its unique properties, and it's rich mineral content, it was heavily mined. It was the only reason the _Agamemnon_ and its sister ship, the _Nemesis_ under Captain Yoshi Kawagawa had been built. Even then, the Agamemnon had only been around for seven years. And the _Nemesis_ had been commissioned only last year.

But, due to the limited resources of the Human Remnant, they had been unable to heavily defend this place. Sure, it was a strategic location. Sure, it was vital to the survival of humanity. But despite all this; only three defense platforms surrounded the planet. That was all. They simply couldn't provide anymore.

And the Centauri cruiser _Namelon_, that was supposed to be patrolling the human colonies of the Republic should have defended it. But, as soon as the jump-points opened and the Minbari ships slid out into normal space, the captain decided that discretion was the better part of valor and turned tail and jumped into hyperspace. He didn't get paid nearly enough to die for the humans.

The ships flew forward, ignoring the Centauri cruiser. Their quarrel was not with the ship. And, even if the ship had decided to stand up to them, how long would it have been able to stand up to them? There was nearly sixty ships total in the fleet. Every ship the Minbari Federation could call together had come. They would finish the job they had started thirteen years ago.

The defense platforms were activated almost too late, and they were only able to fire a few missiles, doing almost no damage to the Minbari fleet before it plowed its way through. And taking up stationary orbit around the planet, shuttles began to descend with their loads of Warriors.

* * *

Kalain walked through the shattered streets of the capitol of the colony, a settlement of thirteen thousand people. Thousands had been killed. Men, women and children. Sha'ann pistol wielding Minbari patrolled the streets, while many more could be seen holding their denn'bok fighting poles. Victory was always glorious. Especially one that came so swiftly and with so little loss of life.

Kalain spotted Shai Alyt Shakiri standing with his second-in-command Neroon by a building which had housed the human government of the planet. Kalain made his way toward him, passing several humans being shuffled off towards one of the shuttles. Interrogation, torture and then death. That was the calling of the Warrior Caste.

Kalain stepped up to Shakiri and saluted him, fist against open palm. Shakiri nodded to him and Neroon looked around him, a look of...concern in his eyes. Doubt certainly could not be the word to use. Warriors do not have doubts when the battle is done and over, unless they have acted disgracefully.

"Shai Alyt," Kalain smiled, "A day worth remembering."

"Yes," he shook his head, "We at last get to finish the war that should have been over so many years ago."

Kalain smirked. Yes, as it should have been.

"Tell me, Kalain," Shakiri said, looking down on him, "Will the Grey Council do everything necessary to end this war? Will they follow the path to the bitter end?"

"They shall," he assured him, "Because, if not, they will need to be corrected."

* * *

Lyta sat in the chair at the table, watching impatiently her husband Byron as he attempted to cook. Attempt being the key word. Probably would fail.

"How much longer will it be?" she asked, as her stomach made grumbling noises, "I'm starving over here."

"Just a few more minutes," he promised, the bowl he was working with bashing against the countertop as he worked mixing up the different parts of the salad.

"That's what you said ten minutes ago," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

"And it was just as true then as it is now," he replied, and throwing his glance towards her said, "Why are you so pushy? Are you in a rush or something?"

Lyta threw her hands up, "Look Byron, we haven't been able to have a quiet dinner in ages. And I don't want to miss out on it."

"Well princess," he sarcastically replied, "Dinner is done. So you don't have to bellyache anymore about having to wait."

Ever since she'd gotten back from Vega 7, Byron had seemed so stressed lately. Compound that with the fact of her hectic work schedule, there never seemed to be a break. Not a single break in the long doldrums of life. And that stress was putting them both on edge.

He came to the table, setting the salad bowl down, and then went and retrieved from the stove his version of chicken alfredo. At least chickens had survived the downfall of Earth. Otherwise the whole meat-loving community would have died a horrible and sudden death.

But Byron had barely sat down when the commscreen began blinking. "Incoming message from New Geneva Maximum Security Facility."

Lyta closed her eyes and dropped her head. Can't they get one moment of peace? _Let them wait Lyta._ She could hear Byron in her thoughts. But, he couldn't stop her from answering the call. Which she did anyways.

"Mrs. Gordon," the man on the other end of the line said, "This is Captain Sinclair. We need you to come to interrogate a prisoner."

"Why not call one of the other thirty different telepaths authorized to do criminal investigations?" she asked, "I just sat down to dinner."

"I am sorry about that," Sinclair replied, "I really do. But, you are our only telepath comfortable with reading alien minds. And it is for the good of humanity."

Good of humanity. When was it never for the good of humanity? It wasn't that she was comfortable doing alien minds. It was just easier for her then most. She never knew why. They simply refused to do so. Not Alison, Jason Ironheart, not even young John Matheson. None except her.

"Alright," she said, shaking her head slowly, "When do you need me there?"

"You can finish dinner," Sinclair shrugged, "but please don't be too long."

And the commscreen went dark. Lyta sighed and turned to Byron, but she didn't have to be a telepath to know he was furious. He wouldn't even look at her.

_Why can't we have just one night to ourselves Lyta? If it isn't some business deal interrupting our plans, it's your mooning over Zack._

_I don't moon over him! How can you even say that Byron?_

_Please Lyta, I'm a telepath. Work it out._

* * *

"How is he doctor?"

"Well General," Hobbs said, hugging the clipboard to her chest, "We've been able to stabilize him. But no more."

Franklin looked down at her and frowned. "I thought you said that that alien device had the ability to heal?" he demanded, "To revive. You said-"

"And it does so by draining the life-force of one person and giving it to another," she reminded him, "Listen General, the amount of energy needed to get him healed would take the entire life-force of a person. I am sure of that. And your son would never allow it."

Franklin's shoulder slumped slightly. "No," he said a little crestfallen, "No he wouldn't."

"I'll let you have as much time as needed," she offered and turned and went about her other duties.

Franklin turned to his son and stared down at his face. He could tell the worry lines. The infinite sadness. His son was a healer, and had been mistreated. Tortured even. He had always believed Stephan should have focused on a military career instead of his fascination with these alien creatures. But, he had always been proud of him. Always.

* * *

The door opened to the cell and Lyta entered. What a barren and unforgiving place this was. And as she looked as the Minbari strapped to the table, strapped so tightly he couldn't move, bright lamps bearing down on his face, she couldn't help but wonder if anyone was ever deserving of such terrible conditions.

The door closed behind her and she was left alone. She glanced around, but the only thing was the Minbari, the light shutting down. The Minbari groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. As she looked at him, she felt something...familiar. But, what it was, she didn't know.

The table was swung around remotely and raised up, until it was standing straight up. The Minbari couldn't fall through the straps though, as tightly as he was strapped making it impossible. She walked closer to him, the feeling of something long since forgotten touching her all the stronger the closer she got to him. Besides what seemed like a pure white head bone, he didn't look any different from any other Minbari.

"Not much to look at is he?" a male voice said and she jumped, "Sorry to startle you, Mrs. Gordon. I've always believed that the fewer people around a telepath, the better she can do her job."

"Thanks," she said, looking around for the speakers. But, she couldn't find anything. Interesting.

"I want you to do a deep scan," the voice said, "And don't worry. He is a Minbari, and having fought with them back in the war, I know how easily they recover."

"And who are you?" she demanded.

"Who I am is a more interesting question then you might suspect," the voice said, "I however am called Wade."

"First or last name?" she asked.

"Yes," came the answer.

She hated it when people did that. It was downright rude. And very inconsiderate. Not to mention downright unhelpful. She rolled her eyes and turned to the Minbari.

"What do you want me to look for?" she asked looking into the eyes of the Minbari as he slowly opened his eyes, readjusting to the lack of light.

"The Minbari have attacked Arisia Colony," Wade said, "I need you to look for any information he might have on how many ships they've got, their society. Any weaknesses we might be able to exploit."

"Would you like mayo with that?" she scoffed, "All right."

And she began her scan. The main difference between a surface scan and a deep scan was not only the sheer volume of information a telepath could receive. It was also...more...intimate. So much more so.

You could feel their hopes. Their dreams you would share. Their passions momentarily became yours. A split second would give you a myriad of information that you could never find otherwise. For a second...you could become the person.

"He has no memories that goes back eleven years," she said, "Which is odd. He thinks he does, but there's a-Wade? There's a telepathic block to his core memory. It's pretty intense. I don't know if I'll be able to break it."

"Just go through the other memories first," he instructed her.

"And if they don't provide the information you need?" she asked.

"Then we'll worry about that block," came the ready response.

So, she took a deep breath and began sifting through the memories of the person.

"His name is Zacllen," she said, reliving his memories, "He's the aide to the Minbari you captured. Satai Delenn."

"Interesting. We thought he was a bodyguard or student of he's or something."

"There's three castes of Minbari," she said, "He belongs to the Religious Caste. The other two are Worker and Warrior."

"We knew of a caste system being in place."

"He's friends with the Minbari that's following Sheridan around," she said, "He's a member of something called the Anla'Shok. It's an elite peace keeping group created to fight an ancient enemy prophesied to return very shortly. Perhaps even now."

"So we have an elite what? Warrior-Priest following Sheridan like a lapdog?"

"Pretty much."

"Interesting. What else can you find?"

"The Warriors are really wanting this war. But not all. Most Religious do not want this war, but many believe it to be right and just. The Worker Caste...pretty much do as their told."

There was a slight pause. "So, we have a third wanting war," Wade mused, "a third wanting peace and a third fence sitters. Very interesting. Is there any way we can talk peace with them?"

Lyta searched. "The current Grey Council would talk peace, but with so many wanting war, they run the risk of civil war if they don't fight a real enemy." She shrugged, "It's politically convenient to fight this war. They're afraid of civil war happening."

"Who isn't. Is that all you could get?"

"At least from his surface thoughts," she nodded, "Only deeper will give us more."

There was a pause. Wade was thinking it over. "Do it. Break the block."

"Alright," she said, "It might take a while though."

She moved closer to the Minbari and stared deeply into his eyes. There was the block. It stood firm and strongly against the outside. Her mind's eye roved the walls of the barrier. She was not strong enough to batter down the walls, but she was strong enough to open any cracks. And there it was. A crack, where a brief flash of something red could be seen. And, she began to chip away at it.

Seconds passed by as she dug her way in. The block tried to slam shut on here, but the cracks were spreading. No, the whole block would not come down, but, she'd be able to access all the memories she needed through here.

_Blood flowed from a wound in his chest. Weakly he raised his hands from his wound and looked at the red blood that dripped from his hand. He looked around, Minbari rushing past him. He did not call out, but an alarming amount of fear passed through him._

Why would he be afraid of the Minbari? Were they not his people?

"He seemed to have been caught in a battle a couple of years ago and he was stabbed or shot through the stomach. I'm not sure which."

"Wait," Wade said, "If he's religious, why would he fight them?"

"There's a lot of fear in him," she said, slowly, "I'm going deeper."

_A crowd of people were flooding to the landing platform. Humans flooding there, cries of terror and weeping. The red dirt of the planet went off into the distance. He turned away and a GROPO ran up to him._

_"We need you down at the block over by Main Street," the soldier said, pointing the direction he indicated._

_"How long before the Bonies get here?"_

_"Maybe half an hour."_

"He was on Mars during the evacuation," she said, her voice filled with surprise and confusion.

"Are...Are you sure?" Wade asked, just as confused.

"I was there during the evacuation," she responded, "I remember all of this. And-"

"Yes?"

"I think he was human," she responded.

There was a silence. She didn't know who was more unlikely to believe this. Him or her. If she hadn't seen it...

"I'm going to keep looking."

_He fell on the floor, and he weakly looked up. All around him were great...cocoons were the best way to describe them. He couldn't remember...anything. What was he doing here? What is this place? He looked up and spotted a Minbari doctor who hurried over to him._

_"Good morning, Zacllen," the doctor said, "Please don't be too hasty. You haven't quiet recovered fully from your wounds."_

_"What..."_

_"Don't try to speak," the doctor said, and he started at the sound of a loud cracking noise and turned to another cocoon, a body also falling out of it, "If you'll excuse me."_

What was that?

"They changed him," she said slowly, "The Minbari have a technology in which they can change humans to Minbari."

"That makes absolutely no sense Mrs. Gordon," Wade argued, "How is that possible?"

"They are thousands of years older than us," she reasoned, "And please excuse me, I'm going to find out who this person was."

And in she plunged again.

_He was walking down a street, passing by aliens of all shapes and sizes. Humming to himself a mixed up version of Dixie and Deck the Halls. He walked over to a transport tube, which could take him where he needed to go. There was a woman by him._

_He might not be the smartest tool in the shed, but he could tell when someone was having a bad day._

_"You in some kind of trouble?" he asked politely._

_"Why do you ask?" a voice oddly familiar to her said._

_"I have a very good gift for telling when people are distressed. And I see you are not entirely well."_

_The woman snapped back, not really looking at him. "What do you mean?"_

_"The dried tears on your cheek," he shrugged, "The red, puffy eyes. The pouting lip."_

She...knew this conversation. She knew it. Could it be? Was it possible?

_The shuttles were filling with people, but he was able to spot one with room still. He hurried with the red-headed woman over to the shuttle and the security officer inside shook his head. _

_"We only got room for one more Zack," the bearded man said, "We can't take both of you."_

_"Take her," he said, and the woman turned on him. It was...Lyta._

_"What are you doing?" she demanded, "We were going together."_

_"I told you I'm needed here," he reminded her._

_"I need you," she begged, her fingernails clawing into his skin._

_There was so much fear inside him. He knew this was probably going to be the last time they saw each other. But, he would not let her die. She was everything to him_

_"I told you I would follow you," he shook his head, "And I will. As soon as I can."_

_"Please don't send me away," she pleaded, "Not without you."_

_"I will find you," he said, taking her by both shoulders, "I promise. No matter how long it takes."_

A scream tore through the room and Lyta started and stumbled back. She looked at the being in front of her who was screaming as the memories all rushed through him. Everything that he had been before...his transformation hit him and hard. His head thrashed around, the memories coming back hitting him with physical pain.

"LYTA!" he screamed, "WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO ME!"

"Zack?" she whispered, looking at the man before her.


	13. Price of Mercy

**Chapter 13: The Price of Mercy**

In the deep unknown of space, three men stood. The oldest and by far the hardest of them stood in the front of the group, while his two young pupils stood to either side and a step back. And standing on the cliff was a Vorlon. Orange and green encounter suit, it stood with eye stalk narrowed as if contemplating some deep thoughts. But, as the shuttle approached the barren asteroid and it's magiced atmosphere, all attention turned to it. All four beings looked on the shuttle. Some with a sense of annoyance, some with hope, and the last with anticipation.

The shuttle landed and it's thrusters cooled and let trail of smoke rise from them. The doors opened and out stepped a human, who barely could stand, leaning against the side of the shuttle. The next who came out was a Minbari. He was better able to walk.

"Who comes to the asteroid of the Mage?" Elric demanded, his voice booming across the canyon floor.

"I am Drakhen," the Minbari said, "And this is my companion, Marcus Cole, a human."

"Do not play me for a fool Anla'Shok Drakhen," Elric scorned, "I am human and can tell my own kind."

"Of course Techno-Mage," Drakhen bowed his head slightly in respect, "I have come seeking your assistance."

"The affairs of the mortal races of this Galaxy are no longer any concern of ours," Elric folded his arms slowly and grandly, "Our Order has left this galaxy, and we are the last remnants of that order."

"Can you not be persuaded to help us in our war against the Ancient Enemy?" Drakhen asked, now within a few feet of Elric and stopping before him, "The Shadows are moving again. We have seen their hand already at work. We need all the allies we can to fight the Shadows."

"The Darkness that is spreading cannot be allowed to touch our Order or influence it in any way," Elric replied, "This will have to be done by your own races."

"If you will not help us," Marcus said, finally having gotten his legs working and stumbling over to them, "Then can you at least help our friend? She is badly hurt."

"What ails her?" Matthew asked, but Elric held up his hand to silence him.

"These Shadow things attacked our Colony," Marcus explained, "and she was hit by a beam during the fight. She's broken her back and is probably paralyzed from the shoulders down."

"It would only serve the Enemy to not help her heal," Drakhen said, coming to his unlikely companions aid.

Elric glared at them. "We could help her," he finally admitted, "But, there will be a cost attached."

"And what is the price?"

-You-

The Vorlon was suddenly beside Elric, none of them having noticed his approach. Marcus looked at him concernedly but Drakhen bowed his head low. A silence was heavy over the group.

"What do you mean by 'you'?" Marcus finally asked.

"The Vorlon Kosh has been sent to find you, Marcus Cole," Elric said, "There is a touch of destiny to you. But what that destiny is I cannot foresee. All I see is a hard road ahead. You will be turned over to the Vorlon, where he will take you to the Vorlon Homeworld. Drakhen must return to his people."

"I can do that," Marcus replied, "If it will save her."

"I am not finished!" Elric's eyes flashed dangerously, "You must leave as soon as she is conscious. You can only tell her what happened and you are leaving. Not when or where. You will not admit your feelings to her. And do not protest this, I can see your heart in this matter and know of your affection. You cannot tell her. She has a path to walk that must not be hindered by thoughts of you."

Marcus stared at them, and they could see the inner conflict inside him. He had finally worked up the nerve to tell her his feelings. But, he would be forced to leave her if she was to be made whole. Or, he could stay here, and she would not be healed.

"Will I-will I be able to see her again?"

-There are many road- Kosh said -And some paths cross multiple times.-

Marcus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was hard to do this. After what seemed an eternity to him, he opened his eyes and nodded slowly. "I will do this," he said, "I give you my word."

"Then we have work to do," Elric said, and with a swish of his cloak, all three Techno-mages proceeded to the shuttle, and Marcus and Drakhen followed him. And all the while Kosh's eye stalk remained fixated on Marcus.

* * *

Delenn sat slumped in her chair. The Interrogator would come soon. As he always did. And he had torn her apart. Piece by piece. All her pride, all her dignity that she had built up was gone. Gone through the force of his attacks and her own self-doubt.

She had to give in. There was nothing left. There was a saying Valen had once said. "The only thing required is you to say no one more time then they want." But, what happened when they simply would not let you go. What happened if they refused to let you win?

There was only so much one could do. The door opened and she didn't look up. She knew who it was.

"Good morning, Delenn," he said.

Delenn was too weak to speak on her own. She hadn't slept for weeks now. She couldn't say anything. But still, she felt that needle drill into her headbone.

"Good morning, Delenn," the man repeated.

"Good...morning," she managed very weakly.

"It is time for you to break," the Interrogator said, and she didn't notice that there was no table. Just him and her.

"I...can...t."

"You will not live another day like this," he said, walking to her side, "You are starving. You can finally eat. You haven't slept. You can sleep. Do you not want freedom Delenn? Do you not want to feel the sun on your face? Feel the wind over your body?"

"Yes..." she cried, not tears left to shed, "I want it so badly."

"Then why not tell me what I need to know?" he asked, "All I need is answers."

"You...will...kill me," she said.

"I told you Delenn," he said, squatting in front of her, "I will only tell you the truth. You will die. But not by my hand. Others want you dead. I do not. You will feel the sunlight again. I promise you that. All I need is information. Will you help me?"

"Yes," she said, and the last vestige of her pride and defiance crumbled.

* * *

Sinclair sat in his chair, listening to the audio recording. In his hand was a cup of water mostly drank, although some still remained. The lights were on low, allowing him to fixate his attention on the audio track.

_We are self-uncertain creatures, and we may, _

_Yea, even when we know not, _

_mix our spites and private hates with our defence of Heaven._

The recording was from the great playwright from Earth Before the Fall named Lord Alfred Tennyson. From his play _Beckett_ to be precise. It filled his soul with deep satisfaction. His eyes closed and he was soon deep in sleep.

_He opened his eyes and he was standing in a cell. He assumed he was in his own prison. The one that he had been assigned to lead. There was no windows to the outside world. Only a door. And a chair. And in the chair was a Minbari. _

_"Ahhh..." he said, "This is one of the Minbari. Interesting that."_

_"You must rescue her," a voice said, and he looked to the door. The Minbari named Valen stood there, arms crossed, standing in front of the door._

_"She was and is an enemy to Earth and Humanity," Sinclair snorted, "I will have nothing to do with her."_

_"The worst enemy is ignorance," Valen replied, "And your ignorance is not what you do not know, but what you know that you refuse to see."_

_Sinclair looked over at the Minbari as he stood there and shook his head. Who was he and why was he bothering him? What made him think he knew anything?_

_"Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,_

_And in a little while our lips are dumb._

_Let us alone. What is it that will last?_

_All things are taken from us, and become_

_Portions and parcels of the dreadful past._

_Let us alone. What pleasure can we have_

_To war with evil? Is there any peace_

_In ever climbing up the climbing wave?_

_All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave_

_In silence—ripen, fall, and cease:_

_Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease."_

_Sinclair looked startled at Valen, who chanted the words. All from memory. How could he know Tennyson? How?_

_"I know much," Valen said, looking at the ground, almost introspectively, "For I have seen much. I have walked on the marble shores of the planet Tenezon. I have felt the sweltering heat of the triple suns of Carcamesh in the deserts below the Mountains of the Three Kings. I have stood before hosts and armies of combating nations and castes and spoken peace. I have looked in the eyes of enemies and seen compassion. And the ugly roots of betrayal within the hearts of dearest friends. I have fought Shadows that moved and stood alone, all friends deserting me. If I, Minbari not born of Minbar could do all this...Is it so hard for you that do you not see your salvation?"_

_"Who?" Sinclair snorted, pointing at the Minbari woman, "That? She probably ordered the shot that started the destruction of Earth."_

_"Look at her face and recognize the woman who saved you," Valen said softly, somehow now standing beside Sinclair although he had taken no step, "Not only did she save you but stopped the entire destruction of humanity's remnants. Look."_

_Sinclair did not want to look. She was Minbari. They had no heart. No souls. Only death where hearts should have been. _

_"Look."_

_What was this one woman worth? Valen claimed she saved him. How could he know? How could he? _

_"Look."_

_He turned around, and shakingly he placed a hand under her chin and raised it. He...knew her. He remembered...an argument. Doubt and concern. Some wanted him dead. Some wanted to let him live. But one woman, with flowing hair and commanding voice argued in his favor. And one by one the voices that cried death were silenced._

_He...knew her._

_"Save her."_


	14. Here Comes the Bride

**Chapter 14: Here Comes the Bride**

Vir looked across the report he was filling out for the Imperial Court. Ever since he had learned of Lord Reefa's rise to power, he had been keeping as close an eye he could on the situation. The Emperor could recall him from his position if he felt it not worthwhile for the Republic for him to be there. But, Emperor Reefa had not recalled him. So, he continually kept filling out the weekly reports to Homeworld.

So much work to do. He had events to attend, meetings to plan, letters to write to various Minbari leaders. So much had to be done. He had sent off a request to Centauri Prime if he could get an attaché to his office. He had spoken with Minister Virini, who had giggled at the request and said, "It cannot be that bad. Being on Minbar is like a walk through a garden. Peaceful, joyful."

It was anything but peaceful. With the new war against humanity underway, the Minbari people were deeply divided on the issue. There was so much tension that it almost took on a physical form. It was...a stressful time. As he talked to Mayan about it, his good friend told him she had never seen it so bad. And were it not for the Grey Council, the old Caste enmities would result in bloody conflict.

"Well Vir," a voice said behind him, "We need to move quickly to stop this war."

Vir didn't jump this time. He was really too busy for such nonsense. He didn't even look at the Techno-mage standing behind him.

"Listen, Matthew," he said, "Why not do it yourself? As you can see I am quiet too busy for this."

"The Conspiracy of Light cannot wait any longer," he said, "You must try to convince your government to mediate on the matter of this war. Or at the least have them send the rest of the Remant's fleet home. A strong enough presence may deter them."

"Something's wrong with you," he said disbelieving the stupid comment Gideon had told him, "I have seen enough of their society to know that once they set themselves on a path, they cannot be stopped. Nothing short of a complete change of the Grey Council...heck, maybe the entire destruction of the Grey Council could stop them."

"Then you must break the Council," Gideon said, walking in front of him and placing his staff on top of the records to force Vir to focus on him, "This was cannot be allowed to continue."

There was a chiming from the door. Vir looked at the door, sighing heavily. What now? Can't people just wait? He had so much work to do. He glanced and saw that Gideon was gone. Thank the Great Maker for that.

"Yes, yes," he said, waving a finger at the door and bending back to his work, "Come in."

The door opened and a woman stepped inside his quarters. At least he guessed so from the light footfalls. He really was in no mood for womanly wiles.

"May I help you?" he asked, continuing to write on the paper.

"Are you Ambassador Cotto?" she asked.

"Am I not the only Centauri on Minbar?" he asked, feeling very irritated, "Are these not Ambassador Cotto's quarters? Obviously...yes...I might not look like much. But last time I checked, I was Vir Cotto."

"I am sorry," she said, walking up to him, "I had to ask. You look very busy."

"It's important work," he kept his eyes glued on the paper. Maybe if he ignored her long enough she'd go away. These were due tomorrow. "At least so they tell me."

"Can I be of some help?" she asked.

"Look, lady," Vir said, looking up from his papers, "I am really busy-"

And then he saw perhaps the most lovely woman he had ever seen. Petite, wide eyed, her head shaved in the fashion of the Centauri people. She wore a silk dress of pink and white satin. And he didn't realize that his mouth was open.

"You were saying?" she asked, a smile spreading across her face.

"I-I-I-" he stammered, "What-Who?"

"I am my name is Lyndisty of House Marrago," she said, "My father is the Lord-General. I am to be your wife."

Vir's eyes grew even wider and in his ears alone he heard Matthew say, "Oh my. Perhaps I'll do this job on my own. Looks like your hands and other appendages are soon to be full."

* * *

"Tell us," Hague said, leaning on the table top, "What new information has the Satai given to us today?"

"More of the same," the interrogator said, "She puts the amount of ships they can put into a war against us at roughly sixty."

"Sixty?" several members of the Council said together.

"And that's not including the couple they would leave to protect Minbar," he continued, "According to her, their great prophet Valen said that wars were won by boldness and willingness to gamble everything. They've modeled their entire philosophy of war, and everything else around Valen."

"I'd like to meet this Valen figure and strangle him," Clark said from where he sat, "He sounds too smart for his own good. No matter the fact he's already dead."

"And what about the situation with Zack Allen?" Mr. Welles said from where he sat, "With his transformation, he could have given them everything needed to defeat us, and he wouldn't have done so knowingly."

"I don't want Mr. Allen around our forces," Hague said, "He's had too much contact with the enemy. I've even heard he's been talking well of them. And I am sure Dick would agree with me."

"I do believe Franklin would agree," Clark nodded, "But, he did fight on our side. Give him an honorable discharge. He never did leave EarthForce after all. Did you find out why they did the transformations?"

The interrogator nodded. "According to Delenn even during the last war many felt that the war was wrong. According to her, her father actually died of broken heart because of the war with us. The only way not to wipe out every human was to take near dead humans and transform them. Even many captured soldiers were simply transformed. It was a way to alleviate their burden of guilt."

"Odd," Welles said, raising a finger to his chin contemplatively, "Then why didn't they finish the job? If they had this way out, why not take it?"

The interrogator shook his head. "You must understand something about this Valen," he said, "He created their entire society. Changed it completely. One of the things the Minbari did before Valen arrived was kill one another. Since his coming back, there's only been once when Minbari have killed Minbari, and was due to one of our telepaths messing with their minds during the war. They will not kill another Minbari."

"That's all well and good," Clark said, getting frustrated, "But what does that have to do with us?"

"During the Battle of the Line," the interrogator continued, "A Vorlon talked her, Delenn into trying to find a reason not to destroy us. She decided that they would take one of the human pilots floating in the wreckage of the battle and bring him on board for questioning. Comes to find out that according to their beliefs, every generation of Minbari's souls are reborn in the next generation. But, the population has been getting smaller for a thousand years and each generation not as great as the last. They discovered that the human pilot was carrying a Minbari soul."

"What?" Hague spat out, shock on his face.

"Not just any Minbari soul," the interrogator replied, "But Valen himself. And get this, the pilot was allowed to live."

"Do you know who the pilot was?" Welles asked.

"Captain Jeffery Sinclair," he said, "Who now runs the New Geneva Maximum Security."

"I want that son of a b-h killed," Clark snarled, "KIll him now!"

* * *

Garibaldi had not felt this alive in a long time. Dodger was in his house, and they were playing a card game. She made him feel contented. Something he very rarely ever was. Not only contented, but happy.

He looked at the hand he currently held and tried not to roll his eyes. What a lousy hand. It made him angry just looking at it. There was no way he could beat her with this hand.

And she was leaning forward across the table, her loose blouse hanging down low. And she was looking at him with unveiled glee. He took one last look at his hand and tossed it to the table.

"I'm out," he said.

"Yes," she said, slapping the table, "I knew you couldn't beat me! Another hand?"

"H-l no!" he laughed, "I won't have any money left if you keep going on like this."

He looked across at her and their eyes connected. She made him feel...so alive! It was exciting to feel.

"Let me fix us some drinks," he said, "Obviously nothing alcoholic. Believe me when I say you do not want to see me when I'm on alcohol."

Dodger looked at him and reached across the table and touched his hand. "I don't want a drink," she smiled mischievously.

And then Garibaldi didn't know what happened next. He was at once all over her. Picking her up from the chair she wrapped her legs around his torso and they began planting kisses on each other's lips. He could hardly breath as he stumbled against the wall and holding her there continued his assault with his lips against her own lips.

Somehow, they got to the stairs and somehow made it to the top. He could only see her wild red hair, the pink of the lipstick on her lips. Her deep brown eyes that seemed to swallow his soul. They stumbled into the bedroom, and he planted her on the bed. The mattress and covers despite the passion on top of them seemed not to care.

Her hands began to unbutton his shirt. How he was enjoying this! He loved her so...

_He looked at the sleeping form of his wife next to him. Lisa had been up all night with Kassie who was sick and had done everything she could before taking her o the doctor. As he looked at her, he remembered just why he loved her. She was a caring and compassionate woman._

_"I love you Lisa," he said, in her ear, and the smile on her face betrayed the fact that she wasn't sleeping, "I always will."_

He pulled back away, as if he was scorched by a fire. Dodger looked at him, eyes showing her confusion. The memory was still there, and a feeling of regret and guilt washed over him.

"I'm sorry, Dodger," he said, "I can't do this."

She blinked at him. "What do you mean?" she asked, "We were almost fully engaged in -"

"I can't," he said again, passing a hand in front of his eyes, "I at once feel guilty because of my-"

There was a silence between the two of them. Dodger nodded slowly and walking up to him placed a hand on his cheek. And there was a sad acceptance.

"We don't have to rush anything Michael," she said, "We've got all the time. And I'll wait until you are ready."


	15. Transformation of Body and Politics

**Chapter 15: Transformations of Body and Politics**

"Take a walk," Sinclair said, stepping up to the door to the cell.

"Sorry sir," the guard said, hands crossed in front of him, "My orders come from-"

"Listen..." he said, grasping for his name, "Morishi. Right?"

"That's right," he smiled slightly in pleasure.

"I am in command of this prison facility," he told him, "And besides, this...creature captured and tortured me during the war. I just want to show a little bit of my gratitude for that, if you know what I mean."

"Right," Morishi nodded his head with an understanding look, "I'll be gone for...ten minutes. Sound good?"

"More than sufficient," he smiled and Morishi turned on his heel and headed around a corner.

Sinclair waited until he was gone before walking into the cell. As he entered the room, he looked at the Minbari and his mind flashed back to the Battle of the Line. It seemed much more real now that he was actually here. By all rights he should strangle her. But, that wasn't the way.

So, he stepped forward and began to unstrap Delenn, who slumped onto his shoulder after her arms were loose. Her body seemed to be of mere flesh and bone, with no meat and substance beneath the surface. She had probably gone without food all this time.

"Who-" she asked weakly, through cracked lips.

Sinclair paused for a second. Who was he exactly? They weren't friends by any stretch of the imagination. No, she was merely a being that was being tortured.

"Don't worry," he said instead, "I'm just getting you out of here."

"Thank-you," she said, before falling into a long dreamed of sleep.

* * *

A security team in full gear rushed down the hallway, heading towards the office. Morishi took a look as they ran past and calling out asked, "What's going on?"

"The President has ordered Captain Sinclair executed," the lead security officer said, PPG rifle in his hand.

"You won't find him in his office if that's where you're going," Morishi said.

The lead security officer looked at him and raised his hand. The group came to a stop. Morishi felt the entire team looking at him. Well, seeing is a more appropriate term.

"What do you mean?" he asked, "Did you see him?"

"Yeah," he said, shrugging, "He said he was going out to grab a bite."

"You know where?" the security officer asked, staring inquisitively at him.

"He said he was going to that Drazi place," he said, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember the name, "Talfiq or some other such thing."

"Thanks," the officer said, "We'll catch him before he has a chance to escape. Good work Morishi."

And as they ran off, he turned and ran to the cell. While he wasn't one to break rules or whatnot, he liked Sinclair. Didn't want anything to happen to him. Maybe it was just the Polynesian inside of him speaking. But, as he reached the cell and opened it, to his surprise he saw...nothing. No Sinclair and no prisoner.

Oh man, was he going to get it.

* * *

Mollari stepped inside the Throne Room, where he was greeted by the sight of the other ministers of the Royal Court. His good friend Lord Jano, the Minister of Information stood over to a corner. He made his way over to his side, passing by beady-eyed Sanch Trego, Minister of Transportation who held some papers up and were reading them. He also passed by Frankis Vole, white haired and contentious Minister of State. And there was many others. All standing around, passing insincere well-wishes and plotting against each other.

The whole point of politics in the Centauri society was to gain the advantage. A knife in the dark, the poisoned drink. The blackmailing. The dirt you could prove and the skeletons you could take out of the closet. Mollari knew the game well, it wasn't by luck that he had ascended to the rank of Prime Minister of the glorious Centauri Republic. No. It was the fact he had killed more of his opponents then they got the chance to strike at him.

"What is this about Mollari?" Jano said, reaching out his arms in the Grip of Friendship.

"I was going to ask you," he admitted, embracing his friend by the forearms as he did as well, "I was at my estate when I got called. Woke up and found two of my wives gone, with only Timov still home, glaring at me as I left."

Jano laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "I am sure we shall find out soon enough," he said, "Ahhh...there he is now."

Emperor Antono Refa stepped from behind the throne and took a seat. The rest of the ministers fell silent in their discussions and stepped in front of the throne, the Palace Guards standing on each side of the throne.

"Thank you all for coming," Refa said, "Especially at so early in the morning. I have several important announcements to make. First off is the new policy that the Human colonies will no longer be allowed to maintain their forces. Or independence. From henceforth they shall serve onboard Centauri cruiser or not at all. Their independence stinks."

"Uh..." Vole said, raising a hand to his chin and rubbing it, "Why did you not come to me and talk to me about this. I am after all Minister of State and as such-"

"You would have argued the point with me," Refa sniffed, "I did not see a need."

"This decision not only affects the state but also the military," Mollari said, "Where is Urza? He is the Minister of War."

"No longer," Refa replied, "Urza Jaddo is to be executed at dawn for treason."

The entire gathering muttered to each other in surprise. Jano looked at Mollari and raised an eyebrow. This was a lie. Urza Jaddo was just as loyal to the Republic as any other man.

"On what grounds?" Mollari demanded.

"None of your business," the Emperor said dismissively, "In his place, I am raising Lord Kiro to be the new Minister of War."

Mollari looked at the other ministers in shock. They all looked darkly at each other. Lord Kiro had made no secret about his ambition for the purple. Placing him there was a dangerous decision at best. Suicidal at worst.

"I am also relieving Prime Minister Mollari of his duties," Refa announced and Mollari nearly collapsed.

"On..." he said, trying to regain his composure, "On what grounds."

"You served Emperor Turhan well enough," Refa said, standing from the throne and stepping down to look Mollari in the eye, "But, you are not the man for this hour. No, I need someone who is bit more of a risk taker, not worried so much about defending ourselves. As reclaiming our destiny."

"And who would you put in my place?" Mollari asked, "Who would you put that fits your schemes any better?"

"Me Mollari," a voice said, and from behind the throne stepped Prince Cartagia.

"What...what madness is this?" Mollari said even more confused and dismayed, "I thought he was dead."

"Indeed," Valo agreed, "Are you not playing with fire Your Majesty to keep a contender for the throne alive?"

"I have no desire to sit on a throne where madmen can assassinate," Cartagia smiled, "I'll be his conscious, and he can lead us all to deification."

"Well spoken," Refa said, and clapped his hands, "And you Londo Mollari, are banished from this city. Return under pain of death."

"For what reason?" he asked, "I surely have done nothing to you!"

"I do not like your attitude," Refa said, turning away, "Go now, or I will have the Palace Guards throw you out."

Mollari blinked and made to say something. But he felt a hand grab him. He turned back to Jano who shook his head. Mollari warred inwardly, but he knew he couldn't change anything. Not yet anyways.

He turned and walked from the Throne Room, ministers watching him leave. And he looked back as he walked and began to formulate plans in his mind. There was a monster on the throne that would cause the collapse of the entire Centauri Republic.

* * *

"About time you returned. I expected you back days ago."

"Sorry, Master," the Techno-mage said, head hung low in show of humility, "My buisness on Minbar ended up stretching to going to Centauri Prime."

Elric closed his eyes and sighed. "What in the name of the Magi did you go there for?" he demanded.

"Setting in motion the eventually return of humanity to our cause Great Teacher," he replied.

"Don't patronize me, Matthew," he snapped, "Your departure has forced us to nearly redouble our efforts healing the woman."

Gideon lifted his head. "Are we going to be able to heal her completely?" he asked.

Elric shook his head. "Unfortunately not," he said, "The damage, compounded by the length of the journey has done too much damage for us to heal. She will be unable to walk as straight as she could have before. She will always need a cane to walk."

"And Marcus?"

"He refuses to leave her side," Elric muttered. "Come now, though. You must contact the Lumati."

"You're choosing _them_ to pick up the Commander?" Matthew asked in disbelief, "Why? Humanity is not their equals in technology."

"She will figure a way on there," Elric smirked and stalked back to his healing of Susan Ivanova, Galen nearly exhausted from the work.


	16. Boom-Shabalablaba

**Chapter 16: Boom-Shabalablaba**

Her dreams had been dark. In them, she wanted to run. To escape something chasing her. The Psi-Cops maybe? She didn't know. But she could hear them giggling darkly in the shadows behind her. And every once in a while, she heard it.

That scream. The one that tore through her mind and made her feel like crawling up in a ball. She had only heard it once. And that was when her life was torn apart by a ship of unknown designs.

She could hear voices. Deep inside she knew these were not part of the dream. No, these were in the real world. Most of the voices she did not know. But, one she did. A thick English accent. Marcus! As one who sees the light at the end of the long tunnel, she grabbed hold of that voice and tried to get towards the sound.

Oh...but it was so slow! The sounds and voices were taking their sweet time to get closer. And the harder she struggled, the heavier she felt.

"Ma-Ma-" she muttered, "Mar-Marcus?"

"Susan!" the voice said, this time getting much closer, "It's me Susan."

With great effort and a fluttering of eyelids, she slowly forced them open. And there he was, his face bright with a smile. A genuinely good thing to look at.

"What happened?" she asked, then taking a look around noticed the stars were all wrong. "Where-where am I?"

"My name is Elric," a man with a bald head said in a deep crisp voice, "You are on the asteroid Helvan 117. I am a Techno-mage, and me and several of my order has healed you."

She took a long look at him suspiciously. Then, she returned her eyes to look at Marcus.

"What happened?" she asked again, "The colony?"

"Destroyed," he said sadly, "Everyone else was killed. A Minbari helped us escape."

Minbari, save them? The colony destroyed? There went her career. How could she report back to New Geneva with news like that?

"At least you are here Marcus," she said, raising her hand up slowly to pat his cheek, "I knew you wouldn't abandon me."

Marcus looked away. Something in his demeanor. It spoke of sorrow and shame.

"Marcus?" she asked slowly, "What?"

He couldn't look at her. "I am leaving," he said.

"Oh?"

"And I don't know when I am going to get back," he said, "The price of your healing. Fancy that."

"Where are you going?" she asked, fear creeping in, "You said you would never leave me. You promised!"

"I have no choice," he said, closing his eyes.

"But..." she said in near hysteria, "You...you promised!"

"I am sorry," Marcus said, and turning left her in the hut with the open roof of space. She would not see the tears that were streaming down his cheeks as he left.

* * *

-It is time.-

"Does it have to be this way?" Marcus asked the Vorlon.

-Yes.-

"But...I," he struggled, "Love her."

-Love is irrelevant. Come.-

"But-"

-Come.-

The Vorlon turned his back on Marcus and headed towards his ship which was parked behind a rock formation. Marcus took a few steps following him, then stopped. He turned to look at the small hut, and sighed.

"Will I be able to come back and see her?" he asked, seeing that the Vorlon Kosh had stopped as well, waiting for him.

-Perhaps.-

"There is always hope," Marcus said hopefully.

-Yes.-

Marcus took a deep breath and turning away from the sight of the small building that held his love did not look back as he followed Kosh towards his shuttle.

* * *

"I'm sorry Max," Catherine said, lifting her cup to her lips, "But I do not feel that you should be going off on these unauthorized expeditions. Not with two wars going on. Too dangerous."

"What better time to be searching for lost civilizations then we people are too busy killing each other?" Max Eilerson retorted from his end of the communications channel, "My sources, which are extremely well paid tells me there is a great place on Epsilon 4 to go searching."

"Even if I did agree with you," she said, "Which I do not, you are running to much a risk."

"Come on Sakai!" he said very angrily.

"No Max!" she said, the cup forgotten, "With Vega 7, Arisia III and now Orion VII having fallen to the advance of the Minbari, I can't spare you on these trips. And that's my final word. Computer, off."

The screen went dark and rolling her eyes in frustration, she lifted the now remembered cup and took a deep drink. Maximilian Eilerson. A brilliant archeologist. Very smart individual. But he had a stick so far up his butt it was piercing his molars.

The door chimed and she grunted. Good. The pizza guy should be here. She was starving. Arguing with people had the effect on her.

"Enter," she called out, and the door slid open. Her eyes grew wide as the man stepped inside her two bedroom apartment.

"I need your help, Catherine," Jeffery Sinclair said.

* * *

"Sit up slowly," one of the Techno-mages said. "You have been out for roughly an entire month. I'll admit, you weren't in the best of shape. Neither now."

"Thanks for what you were able to do though," Ivanova said, feeling the soreness of her body with every movement. It was going to take some time to get the muscles back into their old shape.

"I will warn you though," he said, folding his hands on his lap, "You will be unable to walk straight for the remainder of your life."

"What?" she asked, "Why?"

"The damage was too great," she shook his head, "You will be able to walk with a cane at least. That's always a good thing."

She stared numbly at him. First Marcus leaves her. Abandons her. And then she learns she won't be able to walk properly.

"Also you will need a ride," he said, "We've arranged one for you. But, you will need to convince them."

"Convince them?" she said, looking up at him, "Why?"

"Because we Lumati do no interact with inferior races," a small creature said as he and a large alien with small eyes and long grey hair and beard walked up to the side of the open hut, "I am Correlilmurzon."

"Oh," she said, and turning to the taller alien said, "And you are?"

"Correlilmurzon," repeated the small creature.

"Yes, I know you're name," she said, "but who is the tall Lumati?"

The tall alien rolled his eyes. "I _am_ Correlilmurzon," the small creature said, and the taller alien pointed to himself, and then pointing to the other creature said, "This is my translator Taq."

Susan frowned. She must have hit her head harder then she thought. "Can you not speak?"

"We have a symbiotic relationship with our minds," the smaller creature said, "It would not do for someone of my status to speak to someone of an inferior race. If you are found to be worthy to be our equals, then I'll speak with you. So, what makes you our equals?"

Ivanova shrugged. She wasn't that great a diplomat. So, she'd have to be inventive.

"We'll," she said, "we have the ability to build jumpgates."

"Many inferior races also can do this," Taq scoffed, "Anything else?"

"Well..." she said, thinking, "My last position was military governor of a colony that was used by multiple races to work out their problems. We've got that."

"An honorable and naive idea that we've heard before."

"We've defeated enemies bent on the destruction of all other races."

"A sign of savagery at best."

Ivanova glanced at the Techno-mage who just shrugged. He certainly was no help.

"We have great composers and authors and philosophers," she grasped at straws.

"All worlds have these," Taq shrugged, "Do you have anything of concrete benefit? Something no one else has?"

"Yeah," she snarled, losing all patience with these people, "These!"

And grabbing her shirt flashed them. The Techno-mage's eyes widened. Taq's mouth fell open. And suddenly Correlilmurzon spoke, "I think we can work something out."

* * *

As the purple orbed and black spiked ship rose into space, Gideon turned to Galen.

"She did what?" he asked.

"Just as I said," Galen replied, "Just flashed them."

"And what was she like?" he pressed.

"Very...inventive," Galen said with a smug smile and turning away from Gideon walked off towards the rocks where Elric was waiting for them.


	17. The Quality of Mercy

**Chapter 17: The Quality of Mercy**

What is the quality of mercy? Is it what one puts into it? Is it what one takes from it? A lesson, maybe. What makes mercy...mercy? Is it the intent? Is it the actions? Is it what the recipient feels that gives it power?

For people like General Richard Franklin, mercy was a tool. Handsomely wrapped and fine for the photo-ops of course. Good to put on the resume. But, in the final analysis, it was a tool. One that soldiers seldom ever feel the need to use or keep.

Unlike Stephan. Stephan Franklin believed that mercy was a divine gift that all were entitled to. It did not matter what wrapped them up in. It did not matter whether it was feathers, fur, scales or skin. It didn't matter if they had hair or not. It did not matter if they worshipped one god or many or none at all. Everyone was sacred to him.

The security guards stepped up and grabbing the prisoner in the straightjacket pushed him along, following General Franklin and Mr. Zento, head of security on the _Agamemnon_. Commander Corwin was waiting for them near the medbay. Franklin's rod was pressed firmly to his side, and he walked with the air of command he was bred with.

"Is this the prisoner?" he asked, glancing at the man behind the General.

"It is Commander," he said, stepping inside the medbay, "Have you informed your medical personal what will happen?"

"I have," Corwin said slowly, "But, the news has been met by some resistance from the medical staff."

"And can you blame us?" Doctor Hobbs said, arms folded across her stomach and glaring at the both of them, "I know Stephan would not agree to this. Nor do I. We shouldn't be using him to bring Stephan back."

"The Minbari are coming," Corwin turned to her and argued, "We need all the help we can get."

"So what?" she stuck out her lower lip, "You are violating his principles by doing this!"

"See what I mean, sir?" Corwin rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Franklin stepped up to Hobbs and looked into her eyes. He saw there a woman of infinite compassion and a strong will. A worthy disciple of Stephan to be sure.

"Listen Doctor," he said, "I realize this is hard for you. But, we need everyone we can get to fight the Minbari. Sure, I do not believe Stephan will do any actual fighting. But, we need his skills."

"But this goes against everything he stands for," Hobbs complained.

"I am sure it does," he sighed, "But think about this. This man was charged with murder. He was going to get the death penalty anyways. Should he not at least do some good by his death?"

Hobbs stared at him, tears filling her eyes. Finally she dropped her head and nodded slowly. Franklin put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. No more could be said.

"Let's hook him up to the machine," she said softly, and they guided the prisoner to where the alien healing device was situated.

* * *

Kalain strutted down the corridor of the Grey Council ship, the _Valen'Tha_. He was feeling extremely good. In just over a month they had captured every colony and mining base of the Human Remnant outside of Epsilon Eridani. Now, within a few days they'd begin the trip towards the last vestige of the human race. Sure, his strutting was limited due to a limp caused by pain on his upper thigh. A well placed blow by a human warrior that would have not only incapacitated but also allowed him to be killed had not another Warrior stopped the human.

Arisia III had fallen after only slight resistance. Vega 7 had already been ravaged by a prior attack, and Kalain had led many of his clan in a two week long search for every last survivor on the planet, killing them on sight. Then had been Orion 3. They had resisted for an hour, and it had been a few days of hard fighting to capture moon. They had put up a resistance worthy of one of the Warrior Caste.

He was on his way to deliver a report to the Grey Council on the battle when he rounded a corner. There was maybe a dozen humans being shuffled into a room at the end of the hall. None were military, but civilians. And out of the same door, with dazed and confused looks, he saw Minbari with marble head bones being led by acolytes. He stopped and stared at the scene. What was this?

"What is that room?" he asked an acolyte that was passing by.

The acolyte stopped and glancing in the direction Kalain indicated said, "That's the transformation room on this ship. That's where one goes to become purified."

Kalain's eyebrow line furrowed in confusion. "Why then are humans being led there?" he asked.

"By order of the Grey Council," the acolyte replied, turning herself away, "If you will excuse me, I have considerable work to do."

Kalain stayed a few second later, watching as one of the Minbari went by him. He could see the innocence of a child. But could smell a mixture of Minbari and Human about them. What madness was this? Why was the Grey Council ordering humans transformed into Minbari? By what right did they taint the purity of their race with these...freaks?

It was revolting! His senses rebelled against this! It made him reel with confusion.

"In Valen's name!" he said, and turning towards the Council Chambers, continued on his way.

The room was completely dark. There was a pillar of light in center of the room, and he walked towards the light. He could hear nothing, but his senses let him know there were beings in this room. There was eight. The Chosen One had not yet been decided. The One who would lead the Grey Council.

Into the light he stepped.

"I come before you summoned," he said, turning slowly around, waiting for the pillars of light to appear.

And then, they turned on. Nine pillars spilling from somewhere above. There was a spot missing. The spot of Delenn. Oh well. Not all could be in this circle. She was captured by the humans, curse them!

"You have come with a report on the battle of the planet below," Coplann said from his place, his hood covering his face, "So give it."

"I have fought and bled on the planet below," he said, thumping his chest, "I have led our warriors in battle in tunnels and buildings. I have slain my enemies and caused them to flee. Only to hunt them down."

"We are aware of your good work," Coplann stated without humor, "And we are grateful for your part you played."

"Then why have you betrayed our people?" he demanded.

There was a silence and he could see hooded head turning one to another. Their betrayal should be clear. But, their reaction was as one who has been accused of something they know not of. Or one who was uncomfortable in the catching of them in the act.

"I know not what you speak of," Coplann said slowly. Cautiously.

"Why are you transforming humans into Minbari?" he demanded, his voice booming through the Council Chambers.

"We have our reasons," Coplann replied.

"You have dishonored the life blood spilt of ten thousand warriors across the entirety of our race," Kalain was nearly screaming now, "You have left the path of wisdom by tainting our peoples with this filth!"

"We do not need to explain our actions to you!" Morann snarled from his place, "Understanding is not required. Only obedience."

"I had hoped to avoid this," Kalain growled, reaching his hand into his robes and gripping the metallic cylinder concealed in the robes, not the one at his side, "But you have broken your covenant to our people by merging us with these...creatures."

"And what shall you do about it Kalain?" Jenimer of the Religious caste snorted, "You pushed for this war. What now? Will you refuse your aid? Lead an armed rebellion? Kill us? No Minbari has killed another in a thousand years. Not since before the time of Valen. Not even one as arrogant as you would."

Kalain pulled out the cylinder and pressing the button to the side, the denn'bok extended in his hands and he stood before the Grey Council. Some laughed, but others nervously looked around. Was this for real?

"Do you betray us?" Coplann asked with a scoff.

"You have already betrayed us," Kalain snarled.

"There are eight of us and only one of you," Morann taunted from the side, "You have no chance!"

"We shall see," Kalain said, and raising the denn'bok above him, charged forward, silent and coldly. The one he ran towards didn't react in time to stop the metal pole from crashing into his brain with a crack of her skull.


	18. Unfair Terms

**Chapter 18: Unfair Terms**

Lord Kiro walked through the front door of the Presidential Office of the Human Remnant Government located on Epsilon 3. There was no equals. No respect. No admiration. No even grudging consideration. Lord Kiro wanted only power. And what better power was there then to go before the head of a race and tell them to give up all their rights?

There was several people present. President Clark and his Vice President, Elise Vodreau for one. But there also stood a human with combed over hair, sitting with legs crossed in a seat next to a large window that looked out to the street outside.

"Minister of War Kiro," Clark said, remaining seated, "What can I do for you?"

Kiro snorted to himself. Let the human sit. It was a meager attempt at defiance and nothing more. Knew they not of the leniency that had always been afforded them?

"Mr. President," he said, "I come on the authority of the Emperor. He wishes me to set new conditions on our treaty."

"Why not have your Minister of State come here then?" Vodreau said from where she stood, "This is more of a political matter than military."

"The Emperor may send whomever he wishes," Kiro didn't even turn to look at her.

Clark nodded slowly, "And what are these new conditions?"

"First, you will disband your military and mothball your fleet," Kiro said.

"We have the Minbari knocking at our front door," Clark shook his head, "We need our forces."

"You will disband them immediately," Kiro repeated, "Or it will be construed as an act of war between our two peoples."

"Will you be defending us then from the Minbari?" Vodreau asked.

"No," Kiro said, "It matters little how the war goes to the Emperor. Second, you will disband your government. You are no longer to act as a protectorate of the Centauri Republic. You are henceforth to be slaves of the Republic."

"Is there anything else?" Clark asked, looking at his desk.

"You will arrest Captain Sheridan and put him on trial for crimes against the Minbari Federation who the Republic has no quarrel with," Kiro said with a smug smile.

"Is that all?" Clark asked.

"There was one last part of the message the Emperor wished me to convey," Kiro said, standing up tall, "If you fail to comply, we shall declare war on your people. Our fleets shall destroy your ragtag defenses. The survivors shall be sold into slavery. You shall be destroyed."

Clark stood slowly and looking into the eyes of Kiro said, "Then take this back to your government." And with that he pulled out a PPG and shot Kiro through the chest. As Kiro's body fell to the ground and his lifeless eyes looked up at the ceiling, Clark turned to the human sitting in the chair and asked, "Mr. Morden, will your associates help our ships get back to our space?"

"I think something can be arraigned."

* * *

Immolan V. A place of enriching beauty. The Centauri had over a thousand years ago built a temple there. The temple was dedicated to Gon, the Seventh Emperor. He had been the great conqueror of the old Republic, taking thirty planets and moons in the name of the Republic.

Immolan was by no means a closed colony. No, the Temple of Gon attracted visitors from all over the galaxy. In the year 2258 on the Old Earth Calendar, an estimated five million had visited the temple. And on a poll done by a group of scientists and other educated beings, they had ranked it number one on a list of "most beautiful places in the galaxy".

But, as G'Kar sat on the command chair of his flagship, the _G'Quan Incarnate_, all he could see was Centauri blood. He would have considered peace. The question the Emperor had asked as he killed him had made him think something must be made different. But, his Uncle G'Sten had been killed by a secret Centauri ship. There was no real explanation for what exactly it was. Only that it had taken out the _Ktorens_ with only two shots. He had been planning this attack for weeks now, and he was going for blood.

The Centauri were led by Lord-General Marrago, considered a master-mind of Centauri tactics and strategy. And indeed, G'Kar was finding the going much more difficult than he had previously imagined. The Centauri had set up their defensive line with seven Vorchan class medium cruisers on their left flank. Three human ships held the middle. And the right was held by two Primus-class warships. G'Kar did not know why there was so few, but they were holding their own.

He winced as one of their assault ships was blown out of the sky. This was bad indeed. He had sent several ships to probe the enemy lines and they had been destroyed with great efficiency.

"Send the Frazi-heavy fighters to pressure those Primus and keep their attention away from the force of Narn cruisers that will assault their left," G'Kar ordered through the fleet channel, "Heavy cruisers will fire energy mines at the humans."

He watched as the ships began to stream forward and the firing of energy bolts from the ships. Another of his ships disintegrated as a human vessel combined with a Vorchan pummeled it, blowing out the bottom of the ship. There was little he was going to be able to do but hope his ships would be able to keep the attack going. And hopefully it would result in a complete collapse of the enemy.

Just then, ships wrinkled into view. Screams tore through the minds of all. And G'Kar seemed to feel as if someone had walked over his grave. These ships tore into any ship they saw, Narn and Centauri. Purple lasers lanced out, cutting through them. The human ships reacted quickly, and turning, opened hyperspace windows escaped, several ships getting caught in the backwash and exploding. And then, the ships were gone.

And so was all but one of the Primus. G'Kar blinked wildly. What was that? What had just happened? Both fleets were decimated to be sure, but he not had ten ships compared to the one. There would be time for speculations later. Now, he had a planet to capture.

"Advance on the _Primus_ and-" but, the ship turned and fled, knowing it could not hold.

"By Q'Guan," one of the bridge crew said, looking out to the wreckage. "What sort of monstrosity was that? It attacked indiscriminately?"

"I don't know," G'Kar whispered, "But I did not like it."


	19. Hunter, Prey

**Chapter 19: Hunter, Prey**

"Slowly," Morann said, gently setting his companion on the ground, "We mustn't put more strain on your body."

Coplann coughed, specks of blood flying from his mouth. His heart was beating slower and slower. Morann was a good warrior. A fine one by all stretches of the imagination. But...he was no healer. No...Coplann knew enough to know it was no good.

"Morann..." he said.

"We should be fine here for a while," Morann assured him, looking at the bombed out ruins of the building they were in, "A few days at least. Enough for rest. Recover our strength."

"Morann," Coplann said a little louder and with more force. Morann slowly turned to him, his eyes downcast. Something he'd never seen the proud warrior do before.

Coplann grabbed him weakly by the shoulder. The one that hadn't been broken by a well-aimed stroke by Kalain the Oath-Breaker.

"How bad is it?" he asked, wincing as he felt one of his veins rupture in his leg, "And please...do not hide anything from me."

"All of your ribs are broken," the Warrior said, shaking his head, "You arm was broken in two places. And so was your kneecap. And your head-bone was cracked open. I can see...your brain."

"I wonder where that had went," Coplann said, "Hadn't seen it in a while."

Morann chuckled despite himself, wincing as his cut cheek split again and blood trickled down his face. Coplann also chuckled but groaned as his body protested the action.

"I am dying..." Coplann said sadly, "And the Grey Council is broken. We are at war with the humans again. Morann...we never should have done this. If only Delenn hadn't been captured. She would have kept us at bay."

Morann sat back and sighed. "I know," he muttered, "But...what can I do? With you dying and me on my own...What can I do?"

Coplann and Morann fell silent. Thoughts had to be thought. Ideas had to be forumlated. And where did those thoughts lead?

"Kill Kalain," Coplann said.

"We'd go back to the time before Valen," Morann said in shock, "We cannot do that!"

"The prophecies of Valen have been fulfilled thus far!" Coplann pointed out, "The Grey Council has been broken. There are reports of the Enemy once again among us. We need to focus on them...not the humans!"

"What you ask I cannot do!" Morann snapped.

"Are you Grey Council or not Morann?" Coplann asked, "You must rally all who will follow against Kalain. Perhaps the humans will even side with you. Defeat Kalain."

"I will not betray the covenant with Valen."

"Kalain already has, Morann!" Coplann yelled, despite the hurt it caused him. "You must do this, if we are to be saved."

* * *

Like a multi-thorned elongated head of a flower the ship descended towards the planet that had been called by the humans Vega 7. It could hear it. Low. Muffled. The fear. It pounded like a drumstick on a taut drumhead. It was like the pings of an ancient radar. It was a low muffled whisper, that those who could hear the song could hear.

There was a soul that needed to be saved.

* * *

"Congratulations Kalain!" Shakiri pounded the goblet on the table, "With the fall of those weaklings that made up the Grey Council, this war will be conducted as it should have been from the beginning."

"I thank you," Kalain said, stabbing at the flarn before him with his eating sticks, "I want you to send a _Sharlin_ warcruiser into human space. Hit and run tactics. Emperor Refa should have fulfilled his part of our bargain by now and gotten rid of the Starkiller. If he hasn't, we will know."

"And if he hasn't?" Shakiri asked, "What then?"

"Then we shall official announce an alliance between ourselves and the Narn Regiem which will take place immediately after we destroy Epsilon 3 and wipe out the human race," Kalain stuck the flarn in his mouth.

"And what of Coplann and Morann?" Shakiri inquired, "They could lead the rest of Minbar against you."

"I doubt it," Kalain shook his head, "But, to prevent them being a nuisance, how about we see how committed your young Neroon is to his lord?"

* * *

Morann was laid out cold. No, he was not harmed. It was not the way of his Order. They were the ones blessed above all else to save those who were the leaders. The poets. The composers. Great philosophers and blessed lunatics. What greater honor could there be then to save the souls of those who had been great.

He had failed to save their leader. Dukhat. They had made a wall of bodies to stop them. But, he would not fail. Not again.

He stopped over Coplann. A great one. His breathing was rapid, shallow. Ragged. Could a healer see the death coming? Could they?

He bent over him, holding a clear globe in his hand. And to his side, he swept his hand, and a machine was built. The humans had captured one of their machines. Used it to torture. That was not their way. Only in the case of theft would they ever use it.

The Minbari's eyes opened and seeing the Soul Hunter started. He looked wildly around. He was getting colder, and it was getting harder to move.

"No..." he begged softly, "no."

"Yes," the Soul Hunter said. "Do not distress your soul. It will harm it during the transference. Sleep now, until you awake to the long life I gift you with. Sleep now. Sleep."


	20. There All the Honor Lies

**Chapter 20: There All the Honor Lies**

Londo Mollari had been many things. Powerful beyond belief. A title which entitled him to anything he wanted. A position in the right position. Money enough to buy a whole fleet of drinks. But there was one thing he hated having.

Three wives. Great Maker. What did he ever do to the Gods to make his wives the loathsome creatures they were. He remembered about two years ago, his lovely, charming wife Mariel had bought him a present. It had been an antique statue from the early days of the Republic. He was quiet sure she had bought it from a Narn merchant because the thing had shot darts into his forehead. Nearly killed him.

"Get out of bed Londo!" the shrill voice of Timov snapped from the open door to his chamber.

He groaned and threw the blanket over his head. The only good thing about these arraigned marriages were they all slept in different rooms. None slept in his room. He bugged their rooms and they bugged his. It was only natural for such things. Unlike Urza. He had actually married because he actually _liked_ the woman. Poor delusional Urza.

The blanket was violently pulled from his body and he cried out in distress.

"Triple d-ned barbarian!" he shouted, thrashing around, "What is the matter with you woman?"

"The servants have made breakfast and you will eat," she said in her clipped tone.

"Not a chance," he snarled, sitting up, "Leave me alone, woman. Or I will-"

"You will what?" she glared at him, "I do not think you are in a position to make any demands of anyone. Get out of bed, or I will have Daggier come in here and make furious love with you."

"Bah!" he snorted and rolling out of bed fell flat on the ground, "You are thief of joy!"

"Better that then an inbred ingrate like you," she stated, and turning on her heels walked from the room.

Oh. What a strange relationship he had with all these women. It was enough to drive one insane!

* * *

On Minbar, walking into a garden of jewel studded flowers, walked another couple. Vir Cotto, young ambassador to the Minbari Federation from the great and glorious Centauri Republic was many things himself. He was less than a great conversationalist. He was one with little ambition. In fact, that's why Cartagia had befriended him. He had nothing but modest goals for himself.

Sech Morannin had just dismissed him from a trading rights meeting between the two and he was now standing in the garden with his good friend Mayan. She had been among the first to befriend him, and had made no qualms about introducing her to her own friend, Delenn of the Grey Council. And now, she was acting as councilor.

"Believe me Mayan," he said, "I want to do right by her. I really just want her to love someone like me. Someone that doesn't have a fancy title and all that. But, I have little to no experience beyond one."

"No one gets past first place every time," Mayan shrugged, "There must have been women in your life."

"Well yes," he said, "There were these two sisters. Well...they weren't sisters...well, they were but they were more friends than sisters. I mean, it would have been awkward..."

"Vir."

"Oh, right," he caught himself in middle of his ramblings, "Yes, there were these two friends closer than sisters I courted together at the same time. You know that polygamy is not frowned upon by my people."

"I don't understand why anyone would want to bother with more than one lover at a time," she shrugged, "But yeah, you must have experience."

"Yes," he struggled, "But not past one."

"Yes," Mayan said slowly, trying to get into Vir's sometimes thick skull, "First place."

"Of course I've gotten past first place," Vir explained, and then as if she was suppose to know what he meant, "But not past _one_."

Mayan frowned in confusion. Vir sighed and held his hand up to his forehead. This was a little embarrassing to say the least.

"Listen," he said, gently holding her by both arms, "We've got six...well, we've got six."

Mayan's eyes grew wide. _Six_? She wasn't sure is she should be appreciative of this new information or not.

"One is nah," he made a face, "Okay. But you get to four and your...hRRR! HRRR! HRRRR!"

She watched as he began to thrust his chest into the air back and forth. She put her hands in front of her face, completely at a loss what to say. This was...beyond her expertise.

"I get the picture," she said, "Look, Vir. I've only ever had one love. And she died long ago. All I can say is...enthusiasm, humor and honesty will make up for any lack you might have with doing...mathematically high digits."

Vir's eye light up. Yes. He could do that. It wasn't like there could be any harm from trying.

"Vir?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I look at them sometime?"

"Uhhhh..."

"Never mind."


	21. What is Needed

**Chapter 21: What is Needed**

Sheridan stepped onto the bridge of the _Agamemnon_, ready to get back into the fight. Reports had been coming in for the past few days of a Minbari cruiser hitting shipping around Epsilon 4. The colony there had not been touched, nor had they gotten close enough to fight any of the stations. So, after a couple days of being back on his ship and waiting for the Brass to get their act together, he was going off to fight the Minbari.

"Well, David," he said, stepping around his chair and sitting down, "Time to be off and about."

"Roger that," Corwin smiled, "And I see that you have your shadow still."

Sheridan turned around and looked at Lennier, who was standing in a corner. Out of everyone's way. He smiled. However absurd it was, he had grown fond of the Minbari.

"You got a problem with that Commander?" he turned around and asked him.

"No sir," he shook his head, "But, the crew might object to his being onboard."

"Whether they like it or not," he said, turning his attention to the viewscreen, "He's here. And that as they say, is that. Move us ahead full power. Put us on course towards Epsilon 4."

Corwin stared at his Captain and shrugged. What Captain Sheridan did was his own business. He trusted him enough to have faith in his decisions. For the most part.

"Helm," he called out, turning to the helm's officer, "Take us out on course towards Epsilon 4. Full power to the engines."

"Aye, aye sir," helm called out as they laid in the course, "Engines full on course to Epsilon 4."

_Yes_, Sheridan thought as he leaned back into his command chair, _Only thing that could make this more perfect if Anna was here._

* * *

Clark stepped onto the subway car that would lead to the Presidential residence in Nova Moscow. His guards stepped onto the train and took up seats on either side of the train car. They were good men to be sure. But, neither of them spotted Mr. Morden sitting across from the President. They hadn't spotted him slipping onboard.

"Hello, Mr. Morden," Clark leaned back against the window, letting his legs stretch out across the space between the two rows of seats, "Productive day today."

"Yes," Morden said, "But the Minbari are coming. My associates have informed me that the new leader of the Minbari will begin his assault by next week."

"Ah yes," Clark smirked, "Your _associates_. I have yet to see them supplying us with the new ships they promised. Our fleet remains the same size. One would wonder why you are holding out on us?"

"Don't worry, Mr. President," Morden reassured him, "They'll be there. But, we need something in return. Call it a repayment for us getting your ships out of the kill zone at Immolan V."

Clark frowned slightly, "As in what?"

Morden chuckled slightly, "No worries, Clark. It's nothing expensive. All we need is to spread our influence among certain members of your culture. By doing so we shall be able to connect everything to a central server you could say and we'll be able to react more appropriately. Don't worry, it's nothing lethal. But, we need your permission to act."

Clark knew a setup when he felt one. Nothing came for cheap. Whatever this was, it would serve only these Shadows much more then Humanity. But, he remembered the footage of the Line. Two thousand ships. And they had been destroyed as easily as butter of a frying pan on a hot stovetop.

Humanity needed the Shadows help.

"Alright," Clark said, then lifting a finger and pointing it at Morden said, "Listen Mr. Morden, you better not be playing me."

"Never dream of it," he said with the false sincerity of a used ship salesman.

* * *

Reebo and Zooty were among the greatest comedians of past couple centuries. Even before the Fall of Earth, they had been ranked third in the list of Humanities greatest comedians. Following only Jerry Lewis and Charlie Chaplin. And now...well, they were Humanity's last best hope for laughs.

"Zoot, zoot?" Reebo shook his head, his long locks of curly black hair flailing around as he did so, "That's a terrible idea. No one will like that?"

"Of course they will," Zooty said, lifting his foot in the air, "I foresee hundreds...no, thousands...no millions of people lifting their legs in the air going 'Zoot, zoot'."

Reebo rolled his eyes, "Ah Zooty. Did you eat too many pain pills today? Or was that whole thing about your parents sticking your head in bleach and burning your seriousness out of your head for reals?"

"Well," Zooty said, "If you must ask-"

A powerful flash of light flashed through the room. Reebo fell backwards over his chair and Zooty landed on his head. Both were out cold.

* * *

"AHHHH!" Takashima screamed, bolting upright in bed. Her body trembled as her eyes snapped awake and she looked around. Sweat beaded her forehead. What...

"Oh," she chuckled nervously, "It was merely a dream. A dream."

She stood up and staggered into the bathroom. "Lights low," she muttered and turning on the water in the sink splashed some of it in her face to wash off the sweat.

"I thought there was a massive spider on my shoulder," she giggled nervously, and grabbing her silk robe pulled it open. What she saw was worse than any spider.

* * *

_Yes..._

Anna Sheridan was awakened from her sleep. It had been such a beautiful dream. It had been about the time John had first kissed her. D-n it! Why did she have to get woken up.

"What?" she asked wearily, looking at the time. 1 am. "Give me a break."

_The others are here now,_ the Keeper whispered in her mind, _The Dark Masters are ready._

"Ready?" she asked tiredly, shoving her head into the pillow, "For what?

_To help. To lead. To control._


	22. In the Shadow of Z'Ha'Dum

**Chapter 22: In the Shadow of Z'Ha'Dum**

Epsilon 4 was a planet ringed by asteroid. Roughly the size of Mars, it had seen its two moons crash into each other, creating the perfect storm of rocks and broken chunks the size of several _Agamemnon_'s put together. It was also the perfect place for an ambush.

As the _Agamemnon_ patrolled the edge of the asteroids, using it's scanners in a futile gesture, another ship watched from within the depths of the field. It knew its mission. They were suppose to find and destroy the _Agamemnon_. And there it was. Slowly, like a spider in its trap, it slowly, effortlessly wended its way through the narrow passageway, aiming to catch the Starkiller off guard.

* * *

"Now this is 'Poker'," Sheridan said, tossing cards between himself, Doctor Franklin, Corwin and Lennier. Lennier had never played, and well, there is no way better for getting someone comfortable and to fit in then some good nature gambling. And it would be good for Franklin to be doing something sociable after his healing by the "volunteer".

"The point of this game is to get certain combinations of cards," Sheridan continued his instruction, "Full Houses, Royal Flushes, Full Houses, any of these can be used to win the game. When you win, you get whatever was placed in the center pile there and added to what you can use for the next round. Right now we're using 'chips'."

Lennier slowly grabbed the cards, almost as if they were going to bite him.

"Listen," Franklin said incredulously, "Those cards aren't going to bite you. This is a game. Suppose to have fun."

"Sure couldn't beat you Minbari during the last war," Corwin said with dark humor, "But maybe we can beat you at this game."

"Games for Minbari do not involve cards," he replied, "Cards are used for signs and portents. Games involve sticks and dice. And rings of steel."

"Could watch cage matches if you like," Sheridan suggested.

"Cage matches?"

Franklin shrugged in a giving-up manner. "This is going to be a long game," he informed everyone, but squinted and held his fingers to his forehead.

"You alright, Doctor?" Corwin asked, glancing over at him, organizing the cards in his hand.

"Don't worry about me, David," he snapped, "Let's just focus on this game."

Lennier glanced at him and shrugged. Humans were by nature an odd race. So, he turned his eyes and looking at the cards in his hand remarked, "Did you know that the odds against this hand are seven to one?"

The three humans passed glances and tossed their cards on the table. Lennier looked at the cards going on the table and looked up questioningly.

"Does this mean I won?" he asked.

Sheridan had no time to answer before an explosion rocked through the ship, sending everyone in the room and the table flying.

* * *

"Report!" Sheridan called out, stumbling onto the bridge as another explosion vibrated through the ship.

"We are under attack," came the reply from Lieutenant James.

"Thanks a lot, smarta-s!" Sheridan snapped, "Where are they?"

"We got a single Minbari ship running circles around us," James reported, "Literally. Moving almost too fast for us to lock on."

"Hate it when that happens," Corwin muttered, maneuvering his way to his station.

Sparks were flying across the bridge from busted conduits. One of the things Sheridan hated was that the Military was so strapped for cash now they couldn't afford to install new wires in the ship. The whole ship was held together by tiny strings of good-intentions and hope.

"Reverse right engines," Sheridan ordered, forcing himself into his seat, "Swing us around 95 degrees to starboard. Then begin firing immediately. Stupid boney's won't take my fraggen ship so easily! No offense intended, Mr. Lennier."

"None taken," the Minbari shook his head.

"Reverse right engines, aye sir," helm called out and they could feel the tug as the ship began to spin. Then, a massive explosion erupted, lurching the ship forward.

"Stop and fire!" Sheridan called out, feeling his ship continuing to spin.

"Left engines blown out sir," helm reported.

"How did those Minbari get behind us like that?" Sheridan demanded.

"That was no hit, Captain," engineering reported through the comm, "The thing malfunctioned. Blew itself out. Thought you might like to know."

"D-it!" Sheridan slammed his fists on the armrests, "Vent levels eight and nine! Use the air to push us back into position for our firing solution!"

* * *

The Minbari cruiser watched as the _Agamemnon_ floundered trying to stay afloat. It's guns were firing erratically, trying to hold them off. The captain of the cruiser was truly afraid of Sheridan. He after all had killed so many and invented such unique ways of killing their ships. But, imagine if he beat the great Starkiller! Even Valen himself would call him to join his elite Ranger bodyguard.

And he aimed his next blows towards a very vital section of the enemy ship.

* * *

"Minbari ship spotted."

"Fire forward batteries now!" Sheridan shouted but before they were able to fire their lancing blows, the enemy ship fired. The ship thudded tremendously, and Sheridan was thrown from his chair. But, instead of falling, he slowly began to rise into the air. He watched as his ship began to spiral around him, and he could see the sheared off rotating section floating further and further away.

"The Minbari cruiser is swooping for another pass," weapons officer cried out, trying to hold onto her console to keep from floating away.

The Minbari was far enough now it began to turn. But, even as it did the view-screen turned away and they could not longer look out at their enemy but were now looking towards the asteroid field. John Sheridan could not die. He still had socks that needed finished washing in his quarters! But, one more hit would kill them all.

He took a deep breath and looked over at Lennier, who was flattened against the ceiling, trying to push himself off. David was upside down, kicking off and gently rolling against a console.

"Launch tactical nukes!" he shouted, "Launch them in every d-n direction!"

"But sir!" the weapons officer said, beginning to lose her grip, "We only got two!"

"Then make them count!" he roared, "Or we are all dead anyways!"

Just as her grip slipped, she swiped her fingers at the weapons console. And she missed. Sheridan felt his heart plummet into his feet. She had almost no time left to get those nukes launched. And she was getting nowhere fast.

"Pleasure serving with you all," Sheridan told his crew.

"Too early for those sentiments Captain," a voice said through the comm-system, "Your allies don't want you dead just yet. See vengeance done."

Just then the ship swung back into view of the Minbari cruiser and a scream tore through their minds. A black ship appeared on screens, like a spider but ten times as ugly. The Minbari cruiser was crippled beyond repair with the first shot. Unable to escape, Sheridan saw life pods begin ejecting within seconds.

"Looks like we'll get some prisoners," Sheridan smiled, "As soon as we can Commander, bring in those-"

"Captain!" Lennier shouted, "Look!"

To his shock he saw the Shadow ship turn and fire on each pod. It's continuous lasers swept back and forth, destroying them one by one. Within seconds, there was no survivors. Sheridan and his bridge crew looked out on the scene and the voice said, "We'll take you back to home base. You can thank us later."

There were many things that Sheridan could justify. Using tactical nukes being among them. Not being too gentle with prisoners. Hack, he had probably zapped a civilian ship by accident before. But this...killing the defenseless? Sure, they were Minbari, but...that wasn't right.

"Now do you see?" Lennier asked softly, "The Shadows will kill everyone. They live only for death and destruction."

And for once, Sheridan questioned his decision to befriend these Shadows.


	23. To Touch the Minds

**Chapter 23: To Touch the Minds**

Of all the stupidity. Dodger had wanted to spend the afternoon with him, but Garibaldi was especially hurting for his wife and child. He hadn't returned her call but kneeled at the graveside of his family. D-n if life wasn't cruel and wicked.

What had he ever done? Why did the universe seemed bent on denying him the least kindness? He hadn't lost nearly as much as everyone else when Earth had fallen it was true. His family had already passed. Either literally like his father who had died three years before the war or figuratively like his mother, who had fled the hospital as soon as she could walk after he was born, unwilling to be hindered by a child.

And where was Bester? Alfred Bester had given him purpose. Given him a new direction. Refocused him. Helped him return to a point of confidence that had been lacking. But now...he was gone. Everyone else was gone. The entire network that Bester had built up seemed to have disappeared. And that scared him.

Well...scared might not have been the right word. Worried was closer to the truth.

_Mr. Garibaldi_, a voice whispered in his mind, _Mr. Garibaldi._

"Ah," he said with a smirk, glancing around him, "Wondered when you'd get back in touch with me."

_I'm surprised you haven't found me or my wife yet. Sloppy work that._

"Been a little...preoccupied," he replied, frowning as he scanned the area and didn't see the short Russian.

_Yes...I can tell. A little fiery red-head? Come now, Mr. Garibaldi. Didn't take you for a player. Your wife was only dead for a few weeks before you forgot her in the arms of another woman._

"Shut your mouth!" Garibaldi snapped angrily, standing up and looking around.

_Odd._

"What?"

_I didn't think I was using my mouth. Don't worry, Garibaldi. I can see you but you can't see me. I'm keeping a low key._

"Figure that," he muttered to himself, "So, why did you bring the wrath of Clark down on you?"

_Clark is paranoid. He sees me as a threat to his regime. I don't know what it was, but shortly after these...allies of his arrived, that's when he moved against me. _

"But what would they have against you?" Garibaldi said, then with a smug smile added, "Besides your bad bed manners? Did you sleep with their sister or something?"

_Let me tell you Mr. Garibaldi, I was a virgin until I met Talia. So, I doubt it had anything to do with it._

Garibaldi sighed. "So," he said, "Let me guess. You want me to find out what they have against you."

_Got it in one, Mr. Garibaldi. Got it in one. Get into Sheridan's good graces if you can. He introduced these people to Clark. _

Garibaldi sat against the side of the headstone of his dead wife and hung his head down. This was going to be long and hard. Very hard indeed.

* * *

"Lyta," Byron spoke from the chair in front of the vidscreen, "Why have you shut me out of your mind?"

Lyta paused momentarily as she set down the bags onto the table. She had tried to use shopping to clear her mind, but considering there was very little, it didn't much help.

"I-," she grasped at something to say, "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't lie to me, Lyta," Byron said, standing from the chair, "I've been married to you for three years. I know when you are troubled or angry. Because you shut me out. Did I offend you? Because, believe me, I realize I might have been a little stressed lately, but it was never intended-"

"Oh no, Byron," she interjected, stepping up to him and placing a hand on his cheek, "You have always been good to me. I am not angry at you."

Byron felt her sincerity and she could see relief spread across his sad features. Then, he frowned slightly.

"What is wrong then?" he asked.

"I..." she trembled, casting her eyes down, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Remember as the good book teaches," Byron smiled, "_Sharing is caring_."

Lyta laughed. But, her own troubles quickly doused the flames of humor and light that threatened to crop up. She turned to face away from him, and she hit her funny bone against the edge of the table. She laughed-cried in pain as the tingling sensation shot up her arm. And her barriers slipped.

Byron's smile quickly dropped as what troubled her mind spilled forth into his own. In all his years he could never have dreamed of such a thing. It was something out of a nightmare. Only this time, it was in waking reality.

"He's...back?" he asked.

She didn't say anything, horror spreading across her face. She...she wished she could have told him better. Or not at all. She could see jealous anger flaring up. And turning around he stormed out of the apartment, his anger overwhelming her and making her ill.


	24. Divided Loyalties

**Chapter 24: Divided Loyalties**

The histories are written of people with great empires. The sad sonnets of composers wrinkle across the pages of time. The speeches of dictators and tyrants echo in the spaces between the letters, and the blood soaked fields of a million dead cloud the visions of those who read the pages.

Empires topple. Democracies vanish. Powers and principalities are as fleeting as the life of a fly. But, the histories still tell their tales.

What is not recorded though are the little streams where lovers walk. It takes no notice to the small meetings. The blue collar worker means nothing to them. The backs of slaves that build monuments to their captors are mentioned only in passing. One such event that history takes little note of is the day when Michael Garibaldi offered his services to John Sheridan to become Chief of Security on the nearly destroyed _Agamemnon_. But, history notes even less when the Warrior, sent as an assassin to take out the last living member of the Grey Council landed on the planet that the humans called Vega 7. However, this meeting was in many ways just as important as the other.

* * *

What had Branmer told him on his deathbed nearly a year ago? "Choose what is right. Not because it is convenient or conveys the wishes of your leaders. But because it is right." Neroon stalked off the shuttle, his deen'bok in hand. He had always tried to do what was right, even before his Shai Alyt had passed away. That's why he had accepted Shakiri's offer to become his Alyt. He felt it was right.

But...was this right? Kalain was the recognized leader of the Minbari Federation now, under very murky circumstances. Even Neroon did not understand what had happened. What had driven the Grey Council mad and start killing each other? Shakiri had told him it was in the best interests to kill Marrain and Coplann before they could kill any others.

Of course, he was not like the rest of his culture. He understood leaders could be wrong. He had never supported this war in his heart. What honor or glory did one get from beating an opponent that had no chance of defeating you? When he had voiced this to his Shai Alyt, Shakiri had snorted.

"We fight because it is the calling of our hearts," he had replied, "What difference does it make? We are Warrior Caste, Neroon. Let the Priestlings fuss over morality. We are Warrior Caste!"

It hadn't been necessarily hard to track them down. Their shuttle had been hit and had leaked ion particles. It was like a trail of nemar bread that led to this world. A world he had helped destroy.

The echoes and whispers of the slain were hear. Even as he moved, he could hear the laughter of children. The joyous exclamations of some trick. He could feel the heartbreak of those who had broken up with lovers. He could feel their very souls here. Minbari are sensitive like that. Telepaths especially are unable to go to graveyards of anywhere where someone had died because the dead usually did not sleep well.

The hunter must not be distracted though. Marrain and Coplann were both Warrior Caste. They could come out and strike at any moment. He must be on his guard, especially if they had fallen from grace.

* * *

Malachi sat in the parlor of Londo Mollari. He had never been to the Mollari estate before, not in the long years of friendship between himself and the late Prime Minister. A fire crackled delightfully in the fireplace, and he looked at Daggier and Mariel. They were looking at him with the proper dignity of ladies of nobility. It amused him to no end.

"Ah..." Londo's booming voice called out from the hallway and he entered the parlor, "Malachi! My good, dear friend. I wondered if you had escaped the revolutions."

"I have," Malachi said, standing up and they gripped each other's arms, "Barely though. I hear tells you barely got out of there with your skin intact too."

"His Majesty..." Londo said slowly, "was less than pleased with my holding the position I had."

"We kept him company, Londo dear," Daggier said, brimming with self-satisfaction.

"I'm sure you did," Londo rolled his eyes, "Now ladies, if you please, I'd like some time alone with my good, dear friend Malachi."

Mariel and Daggier looked at each other, suspicion in their eyes. But, sweetly they stood up and curtseying moved out of the room, their silk dresses dragging behind them. They closed the door behind them...but Londo went and double checked that the door was closed.

"So," Londo said, motioning for Malachi to take his seat, "Would you like some brivari? Or hot jala, yes?"

"No, but thank you," Malachi shook his head.

"Mind if I?"

"No, of course not," Malachi smiled and Mollari grabbed his bottle of 1355 from the liquor cabinet and poured himself a small glass.

"I've come to you because I need your help," Malachi said, looking seriously at Londo, "And I know I can trust you, as I always have."

"Oh?" Londo asked, standing besides the small couch that his wives had just vacated.

"I have a spy among the Royal Court who has told me about the Emperor's alienating the humans," Malachi said, "Not to mention his executing loyal members of the Court. The Centarum only appointed him out of fear of retribution."

"I was there Malachi," Londo sighed, and sat down crossing his legs, "The Emperor is out of control. He's also playing a dangerous game by have Kiro and Cartagia in his inner circle."

"Lord Kiro is dead," Malachi informed him.

Londo's eyes widened. "Did Reefa..."

"No," Malachi shook his head, "The Human President...what's his name? Clark?"

"Yes," Londo provided.

"He shot Kiro dead upon receiving the Emperor's orders."

"Well, now," Londo leaned back, a smile spreading across his face, "Perhaps there was some small wisdom in letting the humans live, yes? Too bad no one had the courage to shoot that idiot long before."

Malachi chuckled. "Perhaps," he said, "But, I have also heard darker tales. Londo, I need your help."

"And what do you want me to do?" Londo asked.

"Help me overthrow the Emperor," Malachi said.

"And then what? Cartagia is not exactly sane," Londo pointed out, "I fear what will happen if he becomes the Emperor."

"Who is sane that takes the throne?" Malachi agreed, "But, I had a different person in mind."

"Oh?" Londo nodded sarcastically, "And who is the lunatic you propose to take the throne?"

Malachi smiled slightely. "Why you, Londo Mollari."


	25. Homecoming

**Chapter 25: Homecoming**

She walked limping off the Lumati ship, the Ambassador Correlilmurzon stepping off the ship beside her. She was grateful to be off the ship; if for no other reason than to escape having to continuously fight off the Lumati's advances. He had even tried getting her in her sleep. Sure, she may have problems walking and all that, but she still had to soldier's instinct of immediate awareness. She was a deep sleeper, but could still snap awake at being touched.

Standing on the platform was Mr. Welles and his aide. As she lived and breathed, which caught in her throat at seeing him, there stood Malcolm Biggs. Right after the fall of Earth, she had been on a star-liner bound for Epsilon 3 and had been sitting side by side with this gentleman from the former Great Britain. They had hit it off almost immediately, and had broken it off eight years before.

But...that didn't stop her from still being a little flummoxed by seeing him.

"Welcome to New Geneva," Mr. Welles said, "I am Henry Welles and this is my associate and head of the Homeguard Division, Malcolm Biggs. Thank you for bringing our officer home."

"It was no trouble," Correlilmurzon said, "She was a delightful passenger. She tells me you are having troubles with a race called Minbari?"

Welles nodded, trying to keep his cool and pleasant smile intact despite the mentioning of those Minbari. "Even now they move against us," he said, "Any help your people can do for us will be appreciated."

"I am sure we can work something formal out," the Lumati rubbed his hands together, "We will need to of course write out the legal documents and all those other trappings of political and military alliances."

"Of course," Welles said, and holding out his hand said, "I am sure the trip was long. Malcolm here will escort Commander Ivanova from here."

Correlilmurzon bent low in a bow before Ivanova and standing up slowly looked in her eyes and said, "It was a pleasure to meet all..._three_ of you."

"Likewise," she said, "Please give my best to Taq. He was so delightful."

Correlilmurzon stood and walked off with Welles towards an awaiting taxi. Ivanova however stayed with Malcolm, who was looked appraisingly at her.

"Well Susan," he smiled, "Long time no see."

"Yes..." she said, smiling back, "Long time."

"You can stay with me and my sister if you'd like," he offered, holding out his arms to her which she took, helping support her as they walked, "Or, I am sure we can work out something over at the _Red Planet_. I hear the service there is not too bad."

"You mind if we stop off at someplace to eat?" she asked, her stomach rumbling in agreement, "I haven't eaten anything descent in weeks."

"Didn't the Lumati feed you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I was too afraid that he'd rip off my pants while I was eating," she muttered.

She could feel his questioning look. She looked at him and rolled her eyes.

"It's a _long_ story," she replied.

"I look forward to hearing it over lunch," he replied, "There's a new place, Mcbari's that just opened up. Golden headbones. I think you'll enjoy it."

* * *

"Well Commander," Captain Elizabeth Lochley said, "I was wondering when you'd decide to grace me with your presence."

"Sorry, Captain," the Commander replied, standing in her doorway to her quarters, "But, I haven't been on _Babylon 1_ for a while. Got kind of turned around."

"Could have asked Security," she said, placing her fists firmly on her hips. "Or you could have called me."

"It wouldn't have been that much of a surprise now would it?" he replied with a smile.

"Oh come in and sit down," she said, and threw David Corwin a big hug, "Missed you, David."

"I missed you too, Elizabeth," Corwin said, "And luckily, with the Agamemnon out of commission probably permanently, I'll be able to spend some time with you. I did get some quarters down in Yellow Sector."

"Good idea," she smiled, walking him over to the couch hand in hand, "I need to be able to get _some_ sleep. And what about Sheridan? Won't he need you around?"

"He's off with his family," Corwin shook his head, "I don't think he'd want me around. Besides, he's got Lennier."

"Who?" she asked, sitting down and he moving in beside her.

Corwin ran his hand along the side of his face. "Oh..." he said a little exasperatedly, "A Minbari that has pledged to be Sheridan's bodyguard. It's a long story, Elizabeth."

* * *

Sheridan had been gone when his father had passed away. But, he was home in time to attend the funeral. Anna stood next to him in the front row of people, dressed in a short skirted black dress and holding his hand. She had never seen John cry before in his life. But, now she saw the tears trickling down his face. Lizzy stood next to her husband, sobbing furiously, her children also shedding tears.

The Minister stood there and spoke his words. His words of hope in the resurrection. He spoke of God's love. That Heaven was set aside for men like David Sheridan that had spent his life trying to improve the lives of others by doing his best to heal the wounds of nations and businesses.

But Sheridan heard none of it. His mind was clouded over in dark thoughts. Why, if there was a God, did he allow Earth to fall? Why would he make it impossible to make drugs to keep his father alive? Why? So many unanswered questions like these played out in his mind.

As everyone left the funeral, sooner or later only Sheridan and his wife stood over the grave. And eventually even Anna left, claiming to be getting sick. And still he remained. Alone, to his thoughts.

"Humans are so depressing in the matters of death," Lennier's voice spoke, and he dropped out of the tree in the cemetery.

"Death is depressing," Sheridan responded, his voice dead even in his own ears.

"When Minbari pass," Lennier said, "The body is placed in a crystal coffin. Our graveyards are rows and rows of crystal coffins that are set out so all can see. The bodies are preserved for a hundred years that way. There is cremations yes...but, the dead are remembered with honor. For we know that all are reborn into the next generation."

"Reborn," Sheridan chuckled humorlessly, "Resurrection. They're only myths and legends meant to soothe the gullible."

"You do not believe that," Lennier replied.

"Oh?" Sheridan raised his eyes to Lennier, "What makes you say that?"

"You are touched by faith," the Minbari said, "That's why."


	26. The Long Dark

**Chapter 26: The Long Dark**

At last the time had come. As Kalain stood on the bridge of the _Valen'tha_ and stared out into hyperspace, the Alyt of the ship stood next to him.

"It is time Master," he said, "We have reached the jump coordinates of Epsilon Eridani."

The time had come. He could feel it in his very bones. A future was to be born of the pain wrought here. Sixty ships, all ready to end the cycle of pain and suffering. He knew humanity would fight to the death. There was glory and honor to be gained here.

"And thus we ride into the battle," he quoted the words that Valen spoke as he launched his assault on Z'ha'dum so many years ago, "We bring fire to those who would see us dead. We turn this charade of warfare into the bright hope of life. Let it end. Let it end now."

He took a deep breath, a smile breaking across his face. "Holy One Kalain to Fleet. Jump into normal space."

* * *

It was near midnight, Epsilon Standard Time. Only the _Agility_, one of the Human Remnant's two _Olympus-Class_ Carrier Gunboats patrolled the system, despite the heightened state of alert. Humanity's allies, the Shadows, had warned them to be ready.

Captain Trevor Hall was a hard-bitten man. He had been there at the Battle of Mars. He had lost his first ship, the Nova Dreadnaught_ Heracles_ and most of his crew to a Minbari cruiser. His hatred for them burned fierce and brightly. He sat strapped to his command chair, and he could feel the watchful eyes of his first officer, Commander Sandra Levitt on him. She was a good woman and a fine officer. But, she worried far too much.

"Jump points opening sir," she called from her console.

"How many?" he asked.

"A butt load of them," she said, and he smiled grimly.

"Alert the rest of the fleet," he ordered, "All hands to battle stations. Full power to weapons."

* * *

Kalain did not believe in strategy. If he was going to attack, he would attack. None of this dancing around, maneuvering into the right position. He had come out near the first two planets of the system and as such he was going to hit the ship and two stations floating like round barrels with panels in space.

"Scramble all fliers and attack the first of the space stations," he ordered, "After that, proceed to the second station."

* * *

Lochley could honestly say she didn't much care to see this situation again. But there was no way she was going to let them run roughshod over her station. No, she'd blow the ship sky high. David had decided to assist her pilots in the starfuries, leading _Sheep's Head_ Squadron, since their squadron leader was down with a nasty strain of flu.

"Defense Grid activated," her XO called out from his station.

"Are they within firing range?" she asked, running her eyes over her station's console near the viewport.

"Fifty seconds," one of the crew in the lower bridge called out.

"Who wants to live forever anyways?" she asked with a scoff.

* * *

The _Agility_ reversed engines, firing load after load of missiles at the incoming Minbari fleet. They were not firing back though, and that concerned him. D-n Minbari were probably waiting to be real close and then fire. The starfury squadrons assigned to the _Agility_ fought in dogfights with the Minbari fighters. Human fighters were better at turning, considering their X and Y axis thrusters. That gave them their only real chance of fighting the superior Minbari fighters.

"Where's the _Bel'reen_?" Hall demanded, "I need her firepower?"

"Captain Maynard reports his engines have shorted out," the communications officer reported, "He says it's going to take him twenty minutes to get them back up and running."

Hall clenched his fists. That's why he hated Olympus gunboats. The engines had a bad tendency of shorting out.

"Continue to reverse until we get within a thousand kilometers to _Babylon 2_," he ordered, "She's the closer of the two. Any word on the arrival of any of the other ships?"

"Captain Morgernstren says the _Lexington_ should be here in seven minutes," came the report.

"If we live that long."

* * *

The fate of humanity was in the balance. As the Minbari fleet reached optimum firing range of _Babylon 2_, the eight available cruisers of humanity rushed to the fight. But, they stood no chance against the sixty ships bearing down on them. Even the firepower of the five Babylon station, of which only four had crews and those remaining could not be brought to bear on the enemy fleet in a combined front, could not hope to do more than damage a few ships.

But, in hyperspace, six Shadow ships waited. They had only to wait the signal.

* * *

The _Agility_ was dead in space. All ammunition had been fired, and the engines had shorted out. The price to be paid for being the military to a people that were strapped for cash. One Minbari cruiser was venting atmosphere though, and Captain Hall could get some small pleasure that he had at least damaged one ship which now limped back to the exit point. But, he was forced to sit and watch as the Minbari fleet passed him by.

He had no idea that Kalain wanted to play with this particular mouse cruelly. Let them watch their refuge burn, then destroy them. Perhaps he would even let them go, the knowledge of their failure to protect their people revenge enough.

But now, they were in firing range of _Babylon 2_. This one would not escape.

"All ships fire," Kalain ordered.

_Babylon 2 _stood no chance. It's pulse cannons were blazing away, and indeed it scored a hit, ravaging the front of the lead cruiser. But, the remaining fifty eight guns tore through it. Captain Sandra Hiroshi didn't even have time to order the crew to abandon ship before it was destroyed.

Kalain threw his head up and laughed. Victory and blood. What could be more sweeter to the senses?

"Master?" the Alyt said by him.

"What is it?" Kalain asked and the man pointed. And Kalain looked. And he cursed Valen for not finishing the job a thousand years ago.

* * *

Six Shadow ships wrinkled into normal space. They flanked the Hyperion-class _Lexington_ and the Omega-Class _Nemesis_ which were the first Human ships into the fray to help their beleaguered comrades. And between the eight of them the speared through the Minbari fleet, ship after ship erupting in a fiery glory. The Minbari fleet tried to turn on them.

Only to be attacked by the _Charon_ and _Apollo_ Nova Dreadnaught group. Ships turned to face them. Only to be hit by the _Hyperion_-Class destroyers _Aggressor, Arrestor_ and _Candasserri_. They were also in range of _Babylon 1_'s pulse cannons. Within a few seconds, the battle had turned from a one-sided affair, to a full out brawl and the tide was swiftly turning against the Minbari.

* * *

Kalain watched victory slipping from his grasp. He had only one choice to turn this battle around. There was nothing to be done otherwise. Fifteen of his ships had already been destroyed, not counting the two hit by the humans that had managed to jump into hyperspace.

"All ships," Kalain ordered, looking around with calmness born of tranquility in battle, "Move out towards the third planet. Rally there and turn to face the attacking fleet. Full engines."

Even as his ship speed forward, outracing the human ships, the Shadows still followed. And they brought death. Three ships were destroyed before they even made it a hundred kilometers. This was definitely looking bad.

* * *

"Here they come," Colonel Ari Ben Zayne said, looking very clear eyed and focused.

Takashima was more than a little surprised by that. After all the disregard he had shown over the past few months, to see him so engaged and committed was a change. It also assuaged her keeper.

_Let him live then, _it whispered into her mind, _He may yet serve our purposes._

"I want all fighters to stay behind the station," he ordered, resting his hand on the control console, "Let them get within firing solution. Then, as soon as we fire, I want the starfuries to swing around both sides of the station and slide across the enemies flanks using their thrusters. Firing continuously and do as much damage as possible."

"Yes sir," she said, and relayed the instructions to the fighters.

* * *

Sirens blared throughout the city, and Sheridan stood on the room of their apartment. Anna sat beside him in a lounge chair, and they looked up at the small flashes of light that could be seen from exploding ships. And she looked extremely pale. She hadn't felt good the last couple of days in the mornings. But, she still was out here with him, and they held hands.

They could hear panic in the streets. People were afraid of dying. And why not? This could be the final stand of humanity. John had an open channel to the fleet, and _Babylon 2_ was already destroyed, and despite the turning tide, his old _Lexington_ had been badly damaged, _Charon_ was out of commission and so was the _Arrestor_ and the _Bel'reen_ and _Agility_. It was an ugly battle.

How he hated being down here! The blood lust called to him, as it did to all warriors. The fury of battle invigorated him. How he wanted to be up there. But...he had no ship. How he wished David was here. He had no idea where he had gone off too. He wouldn't have minded even that new guy...Garibaldi. He seemed a descent enough fellow. Or even Lennier. But no... Lennier was in the apartment, praying after a fashion. Praying for all those that were dying of his people.

"Anna?" he asked.

"Yes, John?" she asked.

"I love you," he said, "But...I want to be up there. Humanity's fate is being decided."

"But we have good allies now," Anna said, standing up and pushing the lounge chair closer to him, and laying back down wrapped her arms around him, "And it's all thanks to you. You have become the savior of our people."

_Maybe_...he thought to himself. Anna did not see the doubt in his eyes. He had been able to think more of the issue, and he was beginning to fear he had made a pact with the devil.

* * *

"Weapons are overheating!" Takashima called out from her console, "We need to let the system's cool or we risk losing the defense grid."

"How long do you need?" Ben Zayne asked, moving to beside her console and looking down, "No, we can't. It would take five minutes for us too cool down. We don't have that time."

"But sir..." she protested.

"If we cool it down we're all dead!" he barked, "Keep the system firing."

* * *

Kalain watched as the Human heavy destroyer plowed through the _Talkara_ and he knew the battle was lost. There was no way for them to salvage the situation. Only twenty ships still remained in operation and the Shadows and humans were converging on his ship. They were destroying his ships one by one, and he knew this ship was lost.

"All hands abandon ship," he ordered and there was a slow but growing rush to the escape pods, "Aim this ship for Epsilon 3 and give me ramming speed. We're going to take out their capitol. Keep firing the lasers. Clear a path."

"Coming Master?" the Alyt asked and Kalain watched the ship turn and begin to run the gauntlet.

"Yes," he bowed his head, "I have no wish to die today. Besides, I am the leader of the Federation. Where would the Minbari be without me?"

Taking one last glance at the fighters they were plowing through, he turned and walked from the ship. The ship was a relic of a time he had broken. It had no place in the future he would create.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the last of the Minbari ships were gone. They had tried to stop the dive bombing Minbari cruiser but were unsuccessful. It crashed into a district of New Geneva that was lightly populated. But, as Delenn of Mir looked out, she recognized the ship. Some of it was still intact. She looked over at Sinclair and the human woman who were sleeping. Not togtehr but the human woman didn't trust Delenn and made sure she was near her, even if sleeping.

So much blood. And for what?

-_The time has come_.-

Her eyes widened. She had heard that voice before. On the _Valen'tha_ when Earth had fallen. When she had discovered who Valen was in the flesh.

"Time for what?" she asked softly.

-_For the pebble to return to the beginning.-_

She knew what that meant. Throwing a cloak over her and letting the hood fall, she left the apartment and began the long trip towards the burning remains of the _Valen'tha_.


	27. Acts of Conscience

**Chapter 27: Acts of Conscience**

News of the defeat of the Minbari at Epsilon Eridani was big news. All over the many light-years of space people wondered what it foretold. What signs did it show? What were the portents of such an event?

For WarMaster G'Kar though, it was further proof of something dark and sinister in the galaxy. Recently he had heard word that the Kha'Ri had recieved a shakeup of leadership after the death of Councilor Du'Rog to a deteriorating disease. G'Kar was glad of that. Du'Rog had once tried to have him assassinated. But, he had been First Circle, and so his death had caused a new round of chest thumping and pouchling kissing to gain a seat on the First Circle. So, it would be at least four months before the next phase of the war could be launched.

Gave him more than enough time.

"Replay last visual records from the _G'Karten: _time index 9.25 to 9.75," he ordered the vidscreen and it replayed the sequence. Out of hyperspace wrinkled three large craft, like spiders. G'Kar believed there had been more, but he wasn't sure. The ships lanced out first at two Centauri cruisers. Then the nearest ship turned with deadly grace and fired a single blast, destroying the _G'Karten_ in a single continuous blast that ran from helm to stern.

"Play the records of the _G'Hood, G'Karten, Kam'Stien_ and _Kaz'az'kaz_ simultaneously," he spoke to the screen, "Play from time index 9.25 to 11.20."

The door chimed and he looked up at his second in command, Ko D'Ath stepped into his office. She looked at the screen as well. The vidscreen cut itself up into four different sections. And replayed four different times a very similar fate.

"Still watching this?" she asked, her atypical blue eyes glancing impatiently at him, "What do you hope to gain by watching it?"

"It doesn't make any sense Ko D'Ath," G'Kar rapped himself on the head with his knuckles, "These ships jump out of hyperspace. The records show first they target some Centauri cruisers. Then they turn on two of our ships. Then they go back to the Centauri, then they turn on us again. And then they return to the Centauri forces. Then...watch this! This is from our ship. The humans flee and the Shadows begin to pursue them. Why? It doesn't make any sense. Why didn't they just focus on one side? Why did they attack both at different times?"

"I think you have the wrong impression," Ko D'Ath replied.

"What do you mean?" G'Kar asked, looking annoyed at her.

"Computer," Ko D'Ath said, "Does the attacking ships ever attack the Human ships?"

"Negative."

"Is it a pursuit course they set after the Human ships when they flee?" Ko D'Ath asked.

"Negative," the computer replied, "Enemy ships do not follow human ships in hostile fashion."

G'Kar frowned as comprehension dawned. "They were protecting them?" G'Kar asked, "But why?"

"Does it look like I have an answer?" Ko D'Ath replied angrily.

"I have read from the book of G'Quan and these ships are the same design as the Ancient Enemy from his time that he drove off Narn," he said, "But, according to him, they were driven off their ancient stronghold. Have they returned in force?"

Ko D'Ath shrugged, "How am I suppose to know? Look, G'Kar, Captain Na'Darr of the _Bel'Rann Shoo_ was wondering if he could replace the garrison in the Temple of Gon with some of his own men."

"Yes, yes," he sighed, "I'll attend to it personally."

Ko D'Ath saluted and bowed with fists to her chest and turning left the room. G'Kar stared at the screen, and dark thoughts arose.

* * *

Had it been nearly a month since Lyndisty had arrived on Minbar? Vir looked at her beautiful face as they walked towards the shuttle. The thing about arraigned marriages was they were not meant to be anything more than securing the bloodlines and forming alliances within the Republic.

What had he heard Prime Minister Londo Mollari say on the subject? "Love? What does love have to do with marriage?"

But, the time they had been together, the month had turned everything upside down. He...loved her. And he could see that she loved him. It was a match made by the Gods. And as the Gods were rumored to have ordained, marriage among Centauri was not sanctified unless it was done on Centauri soil.

Mayan was waiting onboard the shuttle as they stepped inside, and prepared to take off. He had asked her to accompany him to the wedding. He wanted her there. She had smiled and replied that there was nothing she wouldn't do for her dear friend. As he lifted in the sky and watched the crystal cities of Minbar shrink further and further below, he could feel that for once everything would be all right.

* * *

Galen and Gideon stood over the mirror, the incantation showing them the leaving shuttle. They had watched Vir closely, and the events within the Centauri Republic. And they approved.

"See Matthew?" Galen said, "As I told you, this will play out better than we thought. We are only four months within the new year, and it promises to be a good beginning."

"You forget Galen," he smirked, "It was I that told you about it."

"No..." Galen frowned, "I did."

"I did."

"You must be dreaming," Galen shook his head and with a swish of his cloak disappeared.

* * *

Malachi might be old. He might remember the days when the Imperial Palace was a place worth reach towards, and not just a den of thieves and circling wolves. Sure, the great game of Centauri politics had always been a part of Centauri society. But, once it had been nothing more than that. A game.

And yet...now he saw it falling apart. He knew what needed to be done. It would require him breaking faith and trust with the Royal Court. But, he had heard from a reliable source of "The Conspiracy of Light." Their goal was to fight the darkness that was coming. And he could sense the darkness.

He would leave his sanctuary in the depths of Centauri Primes, Mandalego Rain Forests on the small continent named Cartago. He would attend a wedding. He would watch the young couple pass under the swords. And then, he would approach Vir Cotto and offer him every aid he could render to his cause.

As long as he could secure the throne from madmen and place a true patriot on the throne, he would be more than willing to do anything.


	28. Corwin's Dilemma

**Chapter 28: Corwin's Dilemma**

"Captain Sheridan," Sheridan announced, stepping onto the command deck of Babylon 1. It had been over a month since the Battle of Epsilon had been fought, and he found himself in desperate need to talk to his friend, David Corwin. But, he had first tried to track down his disappearing friend, and had discovered he had been on Babylon 1. For what reason he knew not.

"Captain," Lochley said, stepping around the room from the observation dome, "I suppose you'd like to be taken to Commander Corwin."

"Yes," Sheridan said, "I know he was injured during the fighting."

"Barely saved him," she said, and signaled her second to take command. She directed Sheridan out of the observation deck and began directing him down the short hallway to the transporter tube.

"What was he doing here anyways?" he asked, as they stepped inside the lift, "He had no business up here."

"Didn't he tell you?" Lochley asked, looking up at him, confusion evident on her face.

"Tell me what?" he asked.

"That lying rat b-d," she clenched her fist, "He told me he had told you."

"Told me what?"

Lochley took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She was going to skin that innocent looking creep within an inch of his life. She never wanted it to be awkward between her and Sheridan.

"He and I are seeing each other," Lochley said, clasping her hands together in front of her and looking up with wide eyes.

Sheridan blinked a couple times. In all his years, he never would have guessed _that_. It just seemed terribly...weird. Wrong to some deep level in his psyche.

"Have you both had..." he looked at her with suggestive looks.

"Nope." She shook her head.

Sheridan blinked a couple times. "Never?"

"Never."

"Odd."

They stepped off the transport tube and walked down the hallway towards the medical wing. Round doors swept open as they walked into the medical bay, Corwin sitting up. He was trying to get his arm through a sleeve in his shirt, not realizing it was going on backwards.

He looked...so pathetic in Sheridan's eyes. Not as in pathetic as in stupid or idiotic. No, the pathetic Sheridan saw was a man who was dazed. One who didn't know up from down. He had taken a beating across the head, and it had jumbled some stuff loose it would seem. Especially his eyes. They had a distant look to them. As if he wasn't really there.

"He's been like that ever since we brought him on board," she said, "HIs fury disappeared for twenty minutes during the battle. When it showed back up, it was damaged pretty badly. I don't know how he even got back here."

"He's a fighter all right," Sheridan said with sinking heart.

"D-n, John," she sighed, "The worst part is, he even purposed to me."

"Really?" Sheridan nearly choked, "When?"

"Just as he asked the Minbari jumped in," she said, "I ran off to command the station. I hadn't even given him an answer."

Sheridan stood behind the glass that separated him from his friend. And he felt powerless to help him as David Corwin missed the sleeve and tried again, a rhythmical pattern that had no clue of reality.

* * *

_He could see them. They were looking in through the glass. If he could call to them. Say a word. It would be alright. But the Machine. They were not able to properly get him prepared. He couldn't think more than a few seconds. Those aliens. On that ship. They stuck something in his brain. Something that was for some reason taking it's time drilling into his brains and taking over. But, the damage was done. He was in a pool of water, continually drowning but never dying. He simply was. _

* * *

Two months passed quickly during the time after the meeting on Babylon 1. July soon came and went, but, the simple truth was, history seemed to take no note beyond the rearming of warships in Epsilon Eridani and the lack of preparations of the Minbari. It was strangely curious that. But, another war was beginning. It started one day, as Sheridan and others were finally ordered to clear out the crashed Minbari cruiser. With so much else going on, repairs being made, garbage and wreckage from space being cleared up, the burial and post-humus honors of Sandra Hiroshi and the seven thousand soldiers and workers on Babylon 2, no one had time to secure the crashed ship.

But, Sheridan finally entered the wreckage. It was strange to him and anyone else with him that the mighty ship had crashed. Michael Garibaldi was at his side. Mr. Zento and Miss Connelly had gotten married and were enjoying their honeymoon. He liked Garibaldi a lot, even if he was a bulldog in human form.

They entered a room together, a room full of pods. All human sized. There was decomposed bodies everywhere. Most of them looked like their brains had been smashed on impact.

"Lookie here Captain," Garibaldi motioned him over, "This one is still alive."

The pod he pointed to had lights glowing from it. Sheridan stepped forward and looked at it, and felt a voice in his mind.

-_Touch it.-_

"You say something?" he asked, turning to Garibaldi.

Garibaldi shrugged. "Not me."

-_Touch it now._-

Sheridan raised his hand and bent towards it, and Garibaldi held out his own hand to stop him. Sheridan nodded it was okay, and placed his hand on it. The lights shut off immediately, and the door cracked open, fog pouring forth from the opening.


	29. The Great Law

**Chapter 29: The Great Law**

Months had passed, and as the Human calendar entered August of 2259, Marrain laid underneath a human ship, only partially damaged by the shelling of what remained of Vega 7. Sure, there had been no humans on the planet, but they had decided to reduce what remained to very little pieces of dust and rubble. As a wise man once said, "Leave nothing to chance."

But chances had to be taken. Marrain knew he was being hunted. For months he had evaded the hunter. He didn't know who was hunting him. He knew that if he saw whomever had been sent, it might be too late to escape. So, his flight had led him to the far side of the planet, past a mountain range that stretched for miles and miles in either direction. And, on the far side of the mountains, he had discovered a cavern. It appeared that someone had stashed a few weapons and their ship there, but the shelling had struck the mountains and had dislodged much of the above rock. The fallen rocks had caused considerable damage to the ship, and he wondered if it was even salvageable.

The shuttle was primitive, that was for sure. Marrain wondered to himself how humans ever managed to get into space with such unwieldy and faulty technology. The ship oddly resembled a Lemshanna Assault Craft from the days before Valen. It had been used by the Ramshan Clan of the Warrior Caste, of which he had been a part of. During those days, he had been Morann, which meant "Just Warrior". But, after he watched the ravaging and destruction of Earth, he had cast off that name and taken the name Marrain, "Unjust Warrior".

How had they ever been so blind? Why did they, who had ruled over the entire Minbari race bowed to the pressure of the people? Were they not the rulers and not the ruled? But...Codroni had been right. He had been religious Caste, and before the vote to start the war, he had spoken to Marrain confidentially. It was rumored that the Minbari people would take action against the Grey Council if they did not finish what they had started. They would in a popular uprising throw out the Rangers and Lennon and his followers would be outcast. They would have even moved against the Wise themselves. It had been a simple matter of self-preservation. Codroni had convinced Marrain to go along with it, even if he objected.

"As Panen the Cursed said as the Warrior Caste prepared to revolt against him," he muttered to himself, working on some fused wiring underneath what seemed to be the full cells, "_What manner of men are we that follow the whims of those we should lead? Lost and fallen._"

"I cannot agree more," a voice, deep and harsh said, "But what shall I do with you? Kalain and Shakiri tells me you have betrayed us. That I should kill you."

Marrain stopped and looked around, and saw boots by his feet. This was not good.

"Come out," he said, "It will not be said of Neroon he murdered a man lying down. And besides, I think I'd like to hear your side of the story. It should be very interesting. Who knows, I might even believe you."

* * *

It had taken much doing, but he had finally managed to convince the Government to tell him where they had relocated him. It was a small apartment, in a rundown part of Nova Quebec. Children played in the filthy streets, oblivious to what dirty environment they were in. Some threw him curious glances, not overly hostile towards this stranger in their neighborhood. But, they weren't going out of their way to be friendly either.

He went up to the door and knocked on it. Never before had he felt so...territorial before. Or nervous. Not to mention curious. These three clashed against each other, hoping to win out over the other. But no...he had to make a point. There was no turning back now.

The door opened, and a face, not entirely human, but certainly not a typical Minbari looked out. He blinked at the man standing at his door and they stared at each other.

"May I help you?" he asked.

"I am Byron Gordon," he introduced himself, "I think we need to talk."

"About what?" Zack Allen asked, frowning slightly.

"About a certain woman."

"Oh..." Zack's eyes widened in comprehension, "Lyta?"

Byron simply nodded his head. Zack opened the door wider and with a wave of his hand allowed him access. Byron stepped through, scanning Zack. He felt a wall thrown up almost immediately, but what he did pick up was that the man meant him no harm. But he was also not happy to see him at all. No...not at all.

The apartment was pathetic even by most standards of pathetic. The Government had done nothing to help Zack, and he was struggling. This studio apartment had only a mattress in the corner, no vidscreen, a small table, and a sink that looked like it might fall apart at any moment. A tub was in the corner, no shower head, so no showers for him of any kind. A small fridge that was making a terrible sound. Might die out at any moment.

"Let me be blunt, Mr. Allen," he said, not waiting to be offered a seat, not that he'd want to sit here, "Lyta is _my_ wife. She's _mine_. Your relationship with her is over. End of story."

"That might be all well and good for you," Zack retorted, "But I still have feelings for her."

"You _do not_ love her," Byron said, turning to glare at Zack, "You had your two years with her. It's been over ten years since you last saw her. She has moved on."

"No, she hasn't."

"What?"

"I might be rusty, Byron," Zack folded his arms, "But I can still tell when someone is lying. I learned a lot during my time with the Minbari. And you know what? They don't lie. And believe me when I tell you I can see it your eyes. Has she moaned my name in her sleep? Has she screamed my name as you bedded her? Yes...she has...hasn't she?"

Zack stumbled back as his face whipped around, the telepathic slap hitting him hard. Byron's nostrils flared at the insolence of this mundane dog. How dare he say these things? He was nothing. A freak of two worlds.

"You are nothing, Mr. Allen," Byron replied, "And believe me, if you come near her, ever, I will kill you."

"I've already died," Zack shot back, as another telepathic shove sent him against the wall, "On Mars. I lost everyone there. I saw the blood leave me and I stuck my hand inside my own body. I was changed into a Minbari. I lived a lie. You know what I learned from my mentor Delenn? That this body is merely a shell, and you cannot harm me. You know what you are?"

"And what am I?" Byron sneered, feeling a joy at seeing this pathetic freak whelp on the floor now.

"You are lost," Zack smiled, "Lost because my ghost forever haunted you. Lost because I am alive. You are a small man, trying to make a big noise by being a bully. You are lost. And I have won, and will always win."

"We shall see about that," Byron snarled, and stormed from the apartment.

* * *

"So it was Kalain that betrayed you and not the other way around?" Neroon snorted, "I find that hard to believe. Yes...he is a passionate man to be sure. But...he would not do this. Why would he?"

"He learned we were transforming humans using the Chrysalis chambers," Marrain explained, knowing that the moment of choice was soon coming.

"That's not possible," Neroon shook his head, tapping his denn'bok on his leg, "The only way for the transformation to take place is if the person is Minbari."

"Or..." Marrain held up a finger, "Has a Minbari soul."

Neroon frowned. This was not possible. What was being suggested was preposterous. Humans were the enemy. They could not possibly be related. But...why did it ring true then? Why did his soul speak the confirmation of such things?

"We have been killing Minbari souls for over thirteen _years_," Marrain insisted, "We as a people have lost our way. Only by overthrowing Kalain can we hope to restore order."

"And why should I believe you?" Neroon asked, "What makes you think I'd believe anything you've said. You could be lying. How am I to trust you?"

There was a rustling as leaves over the ground. Neroon and Marrain turned their heads towards the sound. And standing at the entrance of the cavern was a Vorlon, in purple, elongated environmental suit.

- _You have heard the song._ _The truth points to itself_.-


	30. The One of Three

**Chapter 30: The One of Three**

Two months previous:

The door opened, venting streams of air. And out of the steam that was released, weakly walking, was a Minbari woman. Sheridan knew it was Satai Delenn. But, he looked at her. Changed to...a woman of long black hair, and his eyes opened wide.

"The One?" he asked, frowning, "You are the woman from my dreams?"

"Yes, Captain Sheridan," she smiled weakly, "I am the One. And you are the One."

"What the h-l are you two talking about?" Garibaldi demanded with PPG in hand, confusion running rampant in his features.

"It's a long story," Sheridan replied, staring at the woman whom had only been in dreams.

Present Day:

Jeffery Sinclair had escaped partially because everyone was so busy with the cleanup after the Battle of Epsilon. But now...they were after him again. All his past associates were being questioned of where he might go, and those who did not comply simply disappeared. Besides breaking Delenn out of prison, he didn't know why they were so adamant about finding him.

But as he sat in the couch and watched the vidscreen, his mind was being made up.

"And after that stirring weather report from our man on Epsilon 2," the ISN reporter said, swerving around in his chair to look at the camera, "There is an update to the manhunt for Jeffery Sinclair. President Clark has placed a bounty on the head of the former EarthForce and Remnant officer. No further details have been offered on why this is, but he assures the people that it is in the best interests to Humanity for this decorated officer to be hunted down."

Sinclair's mind began to haze out the report as it switched to a poll of Clark's popularity having shot up. The time for his hiding here was over. He had to leave and soon. There was no telling when they'd find out about his relationship with Catherine, but he didn't want her in any more trouble then was absolutely unavoidable.

"You're leaving?" her voice said from behind, and he started. He had realized she had gotten back.

"Got to," he said, "Like Muhammad I must flee those who would kill me."

"Always the poet," Catherine smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Where will you go?"

Sinclair leaned forward, his mind in unrest. He had no real idea. Anywhere. There was a large galaxy out there. They wouldn't be able to hunt him to the ends of the Earth as one could say.

"No idea," he finally said, "Just anywhere."

Catherine sat down on the couch next to him, looking at him silently. She knew him well enough to know the troubles in his mind. And she...felt for him. Strongly. Deeply.

"Take me with you," she said.

"What?" Sinclair raised an eyebrow.

"Take me with you."

"You know I can't," Sinclair argued.

"If you don't they'll find me sooner or later," Catherine pointed out, "And you know me. Never was able to keep my mouth shut."

"You wouldn't."

"I doubt I'd be able to stop them from forcing it out of me if they insisted."

Sinclair couldn't allow it. There was too much risk involved.

"I can't," he said, and hated himself for saying those words.

"I won't take no as an answer," Catherine stuck out her lower lip defiantly.

Sinclair stood up, anger building inside him. Anger and frustration. He walked against the wall and putting his arm on it rested his forehead against it. There was too much at risk. ANd he wouldn't endanger her. Not if his life depended on it.

"I can't," he said, turning to her, "It's not a matter of choice. I still love you. Despite the time apart. And I can't let anything happen to you. Not on my account."

Catherine smiled sadly. "I love you too Jeff. Always have. Always will. But harm will come to me here," she stood up and walking to him placed her hand on his face, "You have always been alone, Jeff. But this is one battle I cannot let you fight alone. Let me be there to help you."

Sinclair stared into her eyes and saw her love inside them. He'd never won an argument with her before, so who was he to start now? He closed his eyes and taking a slow breath nodded. There was no time left. They must leave.

* * *

"No one ever listens to me. No one at all. I told them what happened, but no one would believe me. Called me drunk. Paranoid even. But that can change."

Bester held Talia close to him, feeling the calm of her mind as she slept. He couldn't get off Epsilon. Not without help. But, down here in the slums of Nova Moscow, he'd managed to hide. Healed well too. But, why did she have to sleep when there was a drunken hobo nearby, bottle in hand and sitting to a fire he had lit from garbage?

"Excuse me," Bester called out to the drunk, "Can you keep you down? My wife is trying to sleep."

"You don't understand," the hobo said, walking closer to him with a limp, bent over nearly double, "But Jeremiah does. I am Jeremiah. You do not realize that you are a hand. A hand that shows the universe in a hangnail. A hangnail can hurt, but it is part of the whole."

Bester held Talia closer and she moaned painfully. Her wounds hadn't healed properly, not even when they had gone to the underground clinic here run by some quack that he didn't know the name of. He gripped his PPG in his hand, even though he knew the man was harmless.

"That's why President Luchenko died you know," Jeremiah the hobo said, now very near them, "She did not understand the universe. But Clark, he does. He killed her you know."

"She died of insanity," Bester replied, "as did many people that night."

"Ah, but I saw it," Jeremiah claimed with a thumb to his chest, "I saw the attack. She was killed by President Clark. Because he understands that our Allies are closer to the truth. And she wouldn't see it."

Bester scanned him, hoping to shut him up by triggering the node for sleep. But instead, he caught a glimpse of a memory. He frowned as he watched from Jeremiah's perspective black clothed soldiers assaulting the Presidential Mansion. Jeremiah had gotten awfully close, looking over the fence. He saw PPG blasts being fired. He saw people falling dead and their weapons being swapped out. And then...there was Clark, standing outside the mansion, a smile on his face. Jeremiah had hidden as Clark climbed into a tinted skimmer and he heard the words, "It's done."

Clark assassinated Luchenko the Night of Insanity. Very interesting indeed. Bester knew now how to take down Clark.


	31. The Darkening Present

**Chapter 31: The Darkening Present**

**Centauri Prime**

There are many rituals to Centauri marriages. These rituals are not like those of the Minbari that can have up to fifty-one different rituals depending on clans involved or which Caste is in dominance at the time. Centauri rituals are dependent upon nobility and knowledge. One of these rituals. One of these rituals is a two week period in which each of the perspective spouses spends at the noblest of the extended family branches of the Houses. This was to flash the importance of the House that was being married into by showing the connections.

So, it was with some trepidation that Vir Cotto had stepped inside the walls of the villa of Lord Dugari, one of the oldest living members of the Centarum. But, as he stood in the center of the Household's villa, in the magnificent starlace gardens of Lady Mally, second wife of Lord Dugari, and let the crystalline fragrance assault him, in the second week of his visit, he felt that perhaps this wasn't so bad after all.

So much was going on out there in the universe. Perhaps for once he could just enjoy the simple life. Was it so much to ask?

"Heads in the clouds again?" a voice asked, "Or are you contemplating the wise choice of companion that your family chose for you?"

Vir turned and to his great and pleasant surprise he saw his old friend.

"Your Majesty," he smiled, and bowing low to him said, "I am honored."

Cartagia squinted and shook his head. "Come now, Vir," he laughed, "You forget, I am only Prime Minister."

* * *

"Do you feel we can trust him?" Mollari asked as they approached the villa of Lord Dugari.

"Both are men we can trust," Malachi replied, walking with hands behind his back.

"You still have not explained why," Mollari pointed out.

"Is it really so hard to see it Mollari?" Malachi frowned and glared at him, "Dugari is a member of the Centarum. He will be able to keep an eye on the scene in the government. Ambassador Cotto on the other hand has resources of his own that has nothing to do with the Centauri. He can move at ease much easier then we can."

"I have heard of this Vir Cotto, oh yes," Mollari rolled his eyes, "His uncle calls him modest, no ambition, no drive. The only reason he even got in his position is because of his relationship with Prince Cartagia."

"He's the only one close enough to him to give us the chance we need to strike."

"Will he betray his friend then I wonder?"

"We shall see."

"Oh yes," Mollari let out a sigh as they rang the bells of the mansion, "We shall see."

* * *

**Epsilon 3**

John Sheridan had never been a spiritual man. But, he felt in need of spiritual guidance. He need advice, and he knew that Father Cassidy was a good man, by all accounts of his father. He and his aide, Brother Theo, had no connections with the government. Only with God.

"I find what you tell me disturbing," Father Cassidy said from his chair, sitting across from Sheridan, "That these...Shadows would be so unwilling to let harmless men live...it is a great sin in the eyes of God."

Sheridan clenched his fists together and nodded slowly.

"What am I to do?" he asked.

"You want an answer to that?"

"Yes."

"End this alliance," Cassidy said.

Sheridan looked up. "Just like that?" he asked, snapping his fingers.

Cassidy snapped his own fingers. "Just like that."

Sheridan shook his head and leaned back in his seat. No, nothing was ever that simple. Everything was so much more difficult than that. And he didn't know why.

"I wish it was that simple," he muttered, "I really do wish that. But...look, Father Cassidy. May I be blunt?"

"True honesty does not come from being silent," Cassidy chuckled.

"I was always raised to believe in God," Sheridan said, standing up, and pacing around the room, "Pardon me, Father...but heck, I even believe there can be a God."

"Wise that," Cassidy stated, following his pacing with his eyes.

"But..." Sheridan took a deep breath, "I have killed so many men in my days, and seen so much death. I saw Earth fall. Why would God allow that?"

"The Lord chastens those who loves," Cassidy replied, "True faith in Him is what comes afterwards. God has a plan."

"I've sold my soul to the Devil," Sheridan shook his head, "By allowing these Shadows into my life. Helping me escape. I let them waltz into the Human Remnant. And guess what? It's helped us beat back an invasion force! By next month, we'll even begin construction of the new Advanced Omega-Class destroyers. But, I feel that perhaps it was wrong."

"You see a truth many do not see," the priest mused, "The Devil assuredly will abandon those who pledge themselves to his service. But...he will help them as long as it suits his purpose."

"I am as guilty for the death of those Minbari as those Shadows," Sheridan said, slumping into his chair.

"Saul was guilty for many things, even putting to death members of the Early Church," Cassidy reminded him, "But, he still received forgiveness."

"I don't know if I believe in God enough to ask for some magical forgiveness," Sheridan snorted.

"The principle remains true either way," the older man said, "All you have to do is abandon the path you are on and start something new. Even if it means raising arms against them and their allies. There is much to be said in the power of a weapon if it is in the right hands."

* * *

Anna looked at the room, sense of pride and rush of love nearly overwhelming her. Flowers from John were everywhere. She had arraigned them in the perfect way. She had prepared food to the best of her abilities. She even had lit a few candles. She had news to give her husband, wonderful news. She loved how he touched her again, his sweet tenderness. She had noticed a little bit of distraction lately, but that was alright with her.

There was a knock at the door and she walked across it, wearing a lovely gown of midnight blue with a low cut on the neckline. She opened the door, and there stood Mr. Morden.

"It is time," he said.

"Really?" she asked, feeling her breath catch in her throat, "I...I have wonderful news for him."

"I am sorry Anna. But, your husband is wandering from our camp," Morden said, "And we must get him back on course."

And with that, he raised his PPG and shot her through the chest. She was dead before she hit the ground.

* * *

Dodger was finishing the pasta dinner that Garibaldi had cooked as he gazed at her across the small table. He would never be able to forget his own wife. Never. But, she made the pain that much less.

"Well, Michael," Dodger smiled, wiping at her mouth with her napkin, "What do I owe the honor to such a wonderful dinner?"

Garibaldi smiled. "Take it as a thank you," he said.

Dodger looked at him in confusion. "What for?"

"For giving me something worth living for," he said, reaching across the table and grabbing her soft hands, "These past ten months have been difficult for me, to say the least. It has been hard, without my wife or daughter here. I miss them terribly."

"I know," she said, looking down.

"But, you make it all better," he said, "And...I want to..."

Dodger looked up at him, and frowned. She had never known Michael to be at a loss for words.

"I love you," Garibaldi said, "I love you a lot, Elizabeth Durman. Call me a hopeless romantic, or someone who doesn't understand the mourning process. But I want to..."

The door burst open and the lights went out. Michael tried to see what was going on, but before he knew what was happening, he was out cold on the floor.

* * *

He slowly came to wakefulness. His head felt like it was pounding. Dodger...Where was she?

"Michael?" a voice seemed to call out, and he felt hands grab him.

"Where's Dodger?" he asked, not sure if the words were coming out.

"We got to go," the voice said, and he was dragged out. He heard a couple other voices outside, but he blacked out again.

* * *

"Zathras!" Draal shouted. Where was he? Never around when he needed him. "Where are you?"

There was a scuffling sound and he saw Zathras run through the door to the Matrix room.

"Much apologizings, Draal," Zathras bobbed his head up and down, "Zathras was arguing Zathras and Zathras. Zathras and Zathras claimed Zathras stole bug. Zathras did not steal Zathras and Zathras' bug. But no one, no one ever listen to Zathras. Zathras even try to get Zathras to tell Zathras and Zathras that Zathras did not steal it. But Zathras say he too busy to help Zathras."

"I don't want to hear about your arguments with you brothers," Able Horn growled from where he sat, "I could care less for the lot of you."

"Zathras do all the cleaning," he pointed an accusing finger, "And what does Able Horn do? Nothing. Expect Zathras to do everything."

"I will not have you both bickering," Draal cut them off before they could continue the fight, "Listen Zathras. I need you and your brother Zathras to go to the surface. Meet up with Sheridan, Delenn and Sinclair. They need to get off the planet. Take them to Babylon 4. You understand?"

"Yes," he bobbed his head up and down, "Zathras understand. But Zathras says he's too busy..."

"Tell him to do it or I shall make him clean the power conduits for a month with only his tongue," Draal snapped.

Zathras' eyes grew wide. "That is big punishment."

"Yes, it is."

* * *

**Mars Minbari Colony**

After the humans were driven off Mars during the Earth-Minbari War, the Grey Council thought it prudent to populate the decimated worlds with Minbari colonies. Each was colonized by 30,000 Minbari, ten thousand from each caste. Some had better success than others. Mars had flourished. Within the twelve years since the wars' end, the colony had grown to fifty-thousand. Second in size only to Earth Colony.

In the market place of the city of Trill-Gallon, as the old Mars Dome was now called, the day was extremely busy. Shoppers were out and about, and people were generally being buys. The Days of Valen were soon upon them, and all Minbari observed the day that Valen claimed was the week of his birth.

A shuttle started its descent to the ground. That in itself was not strange. Mars was always busy. But, what did surprise them was what type of shuttle it was. It seemed to be Human in design, but it could not possibly be human. Or could it?

A crowd begin to gather. First by single people. Then whole crowds began moving towards it. What was this strange person? The shuttle settled in and powered off and the doors slid open.

"People of Mars," the man said, "I am Marrain. You all know me. I am Grey Council. You might have heard the breaking of the Council. We were betrayed, by he who claims lordship over the people. I beg you, in the name of Valen, join me and my friend in resisting him who plans on destroying our great Federation. The Humans are not our enemies. But he is! He has broken the greatest of our laws. He has spilt Minbari blood! Join me, and together we shall save our Federation!"

* * *

**Z'Ha'Dum**

He knew of it only from legend spoken by G'Quan. He had spoken of a world on the edge of known space, where warriors of darkness had come and overcast the skies of Narn. And he now looked upon it. A red planet. A dead planet.

And something was stirring there that should not be. A race that should have been gone was at home. There was barbarians in the gates themselves, and not just at them. They would soon notice him. G'Kar turned away from the sight, and slipped back into Hyperspace. It was odd that they had not stopped him. He had no time to ponder it though. He had the Kha'Ri up in arms over not immediately resuming the war once the new Councilor was appointed. If he did not want to die, he better get back to that war.

As he went into hyperspace and followed the beacon that would take him back to Immolan V, he did not notice the dark ship that began following him. Oh yes, he knew what they knew. And they would wait until he was where he was going And then...they would deal with him.

* * *

And thus ended the human year 2159. As Sheridan arrived at home to find his wife's body and fleeing to Babylon 4, taking as many of his crew as were willing to go, other forces began moving. Vir would soon marry, and he had found allies among the Centauri nobility itself. They thought only of their own small planet. But he would be able to use them to accomplish the larger goals.

Meanwhile, Marrain began fomenting rebellion amongst his own people against Kalain, calling for them to rally against the usurper, who remained oddly silent. All this happened as the Centauri-Narn War resumed, and the plans of Shadows and Vorlons began to come to fruition.


	32. Behind the Scenes

**Behind the Scenes**

This, the third part of the Babylon 5 Alternative Universe, is the biggest piece of fan fiction I have ever written. And I hope that each will become larger and larger and grander with each part of the story.

With that said though, I had only planned to do 31 chapters to the story. I hadn't realized how much I had dragged the three or four month period of the Minbari conflict until I had reached the Battle of Epsilon, and realized I had to get the rest of the year done, since each book, except for the first one, covers a year a piece. And since that was about Chapter 26 or so, I only had four to five chapters to cover an eight month period. Something I hoped I pulled off without it seeming too outrageous.

The Narn-Centauri/Minbari Wars were something that was key to the story-telling. But, I did not feel it was necessary to sprinkle the entire story with death and destruction. Oh yes, I felt the story needed to describe the Shadow attack on Vega 7. Of course, Immolan V needed to see some big showdown between Human/Centauri and Narn Forces. And it would be utterly unthinkable not to show the assault on Epsilon Eridani. But, I felt the story was served much more by the stories of Marrain and Coplann, Kalain's rise to power, and the journey's each individual had to take.

Clark's attempt to take out Bester and others were of course not entirely his own decisions. They were Shadow influenced to a great extent. Take for example the decision to kill Sinclair. Sure, he was an officer, and sure, he hadn't at that moment done any crimes, but the Shadows understood a lot more of what happened what was where than most people did. And they knew Sinclair was bad news. You can see the logical digression from Point A and to Point Z.

But, more of that later. Let us go back to near the beginning. There has been questions raised by readers over whether Markus will take the same role of Lyta or not, since he was taken by the Vorlons. The answer is simple. No. I never have intended Marcus to become an uber-telepath doomsday weapon for the Vorlons. No, I have something I feel is much more interesting in mind.

But, I can't say about Lyta. It's not a matter of not spoiling you all. But it's simply I don't know what exactly I plan to do with her. But, I know for a fact that the love-triangle with her, Byron and Zack Allen (who I always intended to bring back, even as I gutted him on Mars) won't be too big a deal in the story. Well...it will. But, it won't take up lots of time and energy explaining what's, why and hows.

I do also hope that it's clear to people the whole point behind Vir being the head of the Conspiracy of Light. I based it off a lot of his own role during the Prime Universe Drakh Wars, where he led the Army of Light against them.

During my time writing, _In the Beginning_, it was noted that I had placed the fugitives of the Earth Alliance on a place, a planet where potentially they could become even stronger than before. Potentially this could be true.

Not so. Humans would have been bent on revenge and that would be the main drive of thier lives. The Great Machine would never allow itself to be used in such a fashion by a people with motives. And as we see, the Great Machine, especially with Draal at the helm, will do anything to protect the secrets, whether it be converting someone to his cause or killing them. No, Draal hasn't killed anyone. But, he would do it if he had to.

Now, the Morishi from the story is the same man who seemed to be the main bomb specialist from Garibaldi's team from the Prime Universe. The man who helped during the investigation of all the bombings taking place by a deranged worker angry at life.

Back to Bester. I gave Garibaldi to Bester, and we learned that Bester had quiet an operation going on, with several operatives running about. The question remains though, why did the Government only go after Bester? Did they simply not know his resources? The answer is yes and no. Yes, they knew Bester had a lot of operatives. Able Horn was simply one of many. And no, they did not go full swing into taking out Bester's operation, simply because the war was taking up their attention. Considering that the Minbari are falling apart, who knows. Maybe Clark will go forward and finish the job.

And now, plans for the future. The story I plan on having four more stories at least to it. _Point of No Return, No Surrender No Retreat, Wheel of Fire _and _Crusade_. Those at least I plan to do, so, I suspect it'll be at least another full year before the whole series is done. Staying the course will be trying at times, but, I do plan to give myself a break from the series for at least a week, so I can work on other stories that are lagging behind.

Meanwhile, as always, thank you for taking the time to read these stories.


End file.
